


P.S. I love you

by Miss_Kitten



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Mention of alcohol, Multi, Smut, character's death, flashbacks are in italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Kitten/pseuds/Miss_Kitten
Summary: When your husband, Tony, dies, you are convinced that your life ended along with his. On the day of your 30th birthday you receive a surprise from Tony and with every letter from him, you start to learn how to live on your own - based on a plot of ‘P.S. I love you’ for @hunters-from-stark-tower‘s  3K Celebration Movie AU Challenge.





	1. Chapter 1

Balancing an urn in your arms, you push the door with your feet and let it close by itself. With a heavy sigh, you finally allow yourself to catch up on the events of tonight.

The funeral was nice, as much as that kind of service can be. There was a lot of people, family and friends, who came to bid a farewell to your husband, Tony. The funeral meal took place in your mother’s pub and you were glad that she took care of everything. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of organizing anything.

Your friends, Natasha and Peggy were by your side the whole time with Steve, Peggy’s husband and Tony’s best friend, who were the first to rise a glass of whiskey for Tony. Tony’s favorite song was playing while all of the people who loved Tony, one by one, drunk a shot for him.

You knew you were crying but it was happening without you even realizing it. You didn’t want to bottle your feelings up – you lost your husband, the love of your life, to a damned brain tumor and you had every right to let the tears stream down your cheeks.

A pleasant surprise happened when, just after Steve downed his shot, the door to the pub opened and your sister, Wanda, entered the room, approaching you and kissing your cheek before she walked to the where the urn and glasses sat and, whispering a greeting to her brother-in-law as if he was sitting there in flesh and bone, she poured herself some whiskey and drunk it. Your heart sunk a little in your chest, filling your eyes with a new wave of tears.

You remained sat by the bar. Your mom went to help Scott, a new bartender, with serving the guests. You could bet a hundred dollars that Natasha was slowly making her way through the small gathering, fishing good-looking man out of not-so-interesting ones. You and Peggy often laughed at her desperation and determination in trying to find a perfect candidate for a husband.

“Such a lovely widow you make, sis,” Wanda called as she took a barstool next to yours, sliding a plate towards you and you smiled weakly.

“Thanks,” you said and reached to squeeze her arm, “I’m so happy you’re here. But I would’ve understood if you couldn’t, it’s so far!”

“Nah, I’m done with Australia. Besides, Tony wrote me, so I had to.”

“Tony wrote you?”

“Yes, he did. I think he wanted someone to deal with mom’s talking while you pull yourself together.”

You gasped, unable to answer her. Tony thought of everything, despite his state he remembered that your sister was always able to cheer you up and help you, even if the most hopeless situations. You couldn’t be more grateful for her presence.

“Can I get you anything?” Scott’s polite voice reached you and you lifted your empty glass. He readily re-filled it with liquor.

“Sorry about your loss,” he offered while doing so.

“Thanks,” you replied and took the glass when he handed it.

“How did he die?”

“Brain tumor,” you said emotionlessly.

“Nice!” he exclaimed and you frowned slightly, looking at Wanda. She was wearing a smirk.

Scott cleared his throat.

“He’s got a great looking urn, though. Wish I were that creative,” he tried to recover, pointing at the urn you had designed for Tony. It was a cube made from black wood with silver rivets at the corners and edges. You took the idea from Tony’s guitar case.

Before you could reply, Scott already resumed talking,

“I buried my dog in a stereo box.”

Wanda covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a chuckle and your lips parted slightly but your mind was blank. What could you possibly say to that?

“It’s not the same, of course. I better go back to my job,” he declared and, with a grimace, went to other side of the bar to tend to others.

Wanda was now chuckling openly and you couldn’t help but let out a cackle.

But that was only a brief moment and now, when you are in your apartment, it suddenly hit you.

You are alone. You will be alone, without Tony from now on and there is nothing you can do to bring him back.

You kick your heels from your feet, laying the urn on the kitchen table. You take off your coat, throw your purse on the table and take a hold on the urn once again. You look around the place and then step to the bedroom, staring at your bed. It suddenly seems to be too big for you.

In a hurried manner, you shed a pile of magazines and couple of pillows from a drawer by the feet of your bed and gently put the urn there. It fits there, you decide as you reach behind your back to unzip the black dress and tossing it quickly on the floor.

You untie your hair and climb onto the bed, your gaze fixed on your bedroom door as though Tony would come in any moment. Unstopped, your thoughts drift to an evening few weeks ago when the two of you had another pointless argument.

_You stormed into the apartment, almost hitting Tony in his face with the force you swung the door shut._

_“We’re in, talk to me, baby!” he shouted, following your steps as you headed straight to the bedroom. You were quiet thus far, only glaring at him when he tried to figure out what had he done this time to angry you so much._

_“I did a bad, bad thing again, luv? Am I sentenced to sleep in a bathtub tonight?” he asked and you panted, narrowing your gaze at him as you shimmied out of your jacket._

_“You said it, Tony, you know you said it!”_

_“What? What did I say this time, huh?”_

_“Oh, you know what you said!”_

_“I didn’t mean it, baby!” he stated, tossing his jacket on the couch and you slid your boots off, placing them neatly on a drawer._

_“You mean everything you say and don’t tell me you sometimes don’t mean anything by saying something. It’s never nothing, Tony, it’s always something!”_

_“And what was it this time? What was that ‘something’ I meant?” he walked around you to turn on the lamps in living room and he took off his shoes. You stripped off your skirt and hung it in your part of the wardrobe._

_“That I’m not ready for a baby. You told my mother you’d have a baby but I’m not ready!” you spat, looking at him with anger in your eyes. He shrugged and you growled._

_“At my mother, Tony! Might as well tell her I’m a lesbian!”_

_“Well, I am the only man you ever had, baby,” he said, a hint of cockiness in his voice and you reached for a shoe, sending it in his direction. He ducked easily._

_“I dated Sam Wilson for four month before I met you!” you came to the windows, closing the curtains, “I can’t believe you said that, Tony, we talked about it!”_

_“I didn’t say you’re not ready, I said that you want to wait,” his voice was soft, soothing and you hated how calm he sounded._

_“Which basically mean the same thing!”_

_“Yes!”_

_“Well, thank you,” you threw the small pillows from the bed, fluffing the ones you slept on, and Tony came to help you fold the comforter._

_“No, wait, I’m confused.”_

_“You’re not confused, you’re wrong,” you said, going to your vanity, Tony walked to his on the other side of the wall. You took your necklace and earrings off, hearing him getting rid of his bracelets._

_“Tony, we had a plan. Wait until we can afford buying an apartment, save regularly from our paychecks-“_

_“You just started getting regular paychecks, darling! You quitted five jobs in what, two years?”_

_“Because they all were idiots! I can’t work for idiots,” you turned around and push the door to the bathroom open, stepping in and taking off your headband. Tony followed you, leaning against the door frame with your shoe in his hands._

_“They couldn’t be all idiots.”_

_“They were and oh, honey, you forgot to mention to my mom about that loan you and Steve took to start your own business. Without asking.”_

_“Ohhh, here we go again!” he threw his arms up and you smiled sweetly at him through a mirror as you brushed your hair. “I’ve been driving limos for three years, Y/N, three years! Steve and I wanted to have something that’s only ours and, wake up call, cars are expensive and you can’t really start such business without at least four cars!”_

_“What if it wouldn’t work out? What if we’d have stay here? Have you thought of what I want? I don’t want to real estate agent forever, Tony,” you struggled with the zipper on your shirt but you finally undid it and pulled the garment over your head, placing it on a drawer in your wardrobe._

_Tony folded his arms over your chest, having put your shoe where it belonged._

_“And what do you want, baby?”_

_“I don’t know, I wanna do other things, too.”_

_“Well, then quit your job, it makes you bitchy at home every bloody day. Oh, and you want a baby? Fine, let’s do it.”_

_“Yeah, let’s make a baby, la la la,” you sang mockingly and Tony rolled his eyes, “see? You always do it. Why do I have to be a responsible adult all the time when you just come up with those brilliant ideas of yours? We live on the fifth floor, with no lift! Where will I change the baby, on the windowsill? We need a plan, Tony, things won’t work out by themselves!”_

_“Do you even want to have a child, Y/N?” he stopped you by grabbing your forearms when you made to walk past him to get to the bathroom again._

_“Will you leave if I don’t?” you attacked and pursed your lips watching as his jaw clenched._

_“You want me to leave?”_

_“Do you want to?”_

_“Oh, you’d love that, huh?”_

_“Would you?”_

_“Okay, as you wish, baby!” he yelled and released you, turning on the balls of his feet to barge out of the flat. You growled, frustration filling you as you made your way to the bathroom, not really having anything to do there._

_You took a deep breath to calm your shaken nerves and when you stepped out of the room, Tony was just entering the flat._

_“Can I come back now?”_

_“Oh, honey…” you panted as you ran towards him, hopping on the sofa and into his awaiting arms._

_“I’m so sorry, so very sorry,” you began and kissed his lips desperately, Tony pressing his mouth to your in a short, sweet kisses._

_He apologized as well, and then as the emotion faded, the two of you could finally talk calmly. He knew you were worried about not having enough money but he promised that it would come eventually._

_The full of feelings and yelling night ended up with Tony performing an absolutely fantastic dance, wearing his white shirt and boxers with four-leaf clovers on a suspenders. You laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes, but Tony always managed to do that – make you laugh until your head spun._

And oh, how much you have already missed him! His stupid talks, his Irish accent, his warm and safe embrace.

You find yourself crying again and you grab your cellphone, dialing well-known number. You lay your head on a pillow, pressing the phone to your ear.

“ _Hi, it’s Tony at Enniskerry Limo. Leave a message_ ,” you hear and you end the call, dialing the number again. His phone beeps somewhere in the apartment but you ignore it, focusing on the voice you crave to hear.

The message goes again and so you end the call and dial his number once again.

And again.

And again.

And again…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song’s title is “The Man That Got Away”, performed by Judy Garland. The movie is titled “A Star Is Born”.

**_Three weeks later_ **

Your apartment is a mess and you are very well aware of that. There are no clean dishes, no clean cups, mostly because you still catch yourself making two coffees in the morning.

Kitchen table is occupied by empty pizza boxes. Sofa is littered with chips, and you might or might not spilt a tea on it.

Your wardrobe is left with open door but you barely dress in your clothes. Duh, you hardly go out, preferring to walk out only when you run out of food. And when you’re at home, alone, you wear Tony’s clothes. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind.

More than once you spoke out loud, forgetting that your husband is no longer there to turn off the light or. One evening when you couldn’t sleep, you could swear you saw Tony sitting at the sofa with his guitar, playing the song you always liked. You feel asleep there, his smell still lingering everywhere in the apartment.

Your phone beeps again but you don’t give a damn. You don’t even know when you left it in the first place. Throughout past weeks your mom, Peggy, Natasha and Wanda have been calling like crazy. They left you a shitload of voice messages but you never listened to them. you know what they’d say. “Please, call me,” Nat would say in demanding voice. “I’m worried, honey”, Peggy would plead and your heart would break. “Give me a call, sis,” Wanda would say, seemingly cheerfully but you’d know she’s been dying to hear from you. And your mom, she would ask if you are, if you showered and all that and you would have to lie and tell that you’re okay.

Truth is – you’re not okay. And you’re not convinced you will ever be. Tony was the love of your life, the man you dreamt of, your knight in shining armor and now he was gone. Gone forever. How unfair it was!

You wipe your face with a tissue and turn the volume up. You’re watching a movie, one of your favorites. You’re hoping it will help you take your thoughts off of losing Tony but the fact that the urn is placed in front of the TV and you’re lying in your bed, having it almost directly before your eyes isn’t helping.

Sighing, you turn the volume up again, waiting for a song to start. You stand from the bed, using the remote as a microphone and when the heroine begins to sing, you readily jump in.

_“…And all because of the man that got away._

_No more his eager call,_

You make your way from the bedroom, swaying your hips lightly and outstretching your arm to emphasize the lyric.

_The writing’s on the wall,_

_The dreams you dreamed have all_

_Gone astray._

Turning around, you enter the living room, the remote close to your lips, your voice getting higher and higher. You know you can’t sing – Tony said it more than once that you never hit the right tone, but who will stop you now?

_The man that won you_

_Has gone off and undone you._

_That great beginning_

_Has seen the final inning…”_

You don’t hear when the door is open and your mom, sister and friends come in. Only your mother’s exasperated “Good Lord!” snaps you out of your haze. You shift your gaze to the door, immediately feeling ashamed, not by your performance but by the state of your flat and the outfit you picked for today – Tony’s white shirt and boxers on suspenders.

“Happy 30th birthday, darling!” Wanda exclaims, jumping a little and only now you notice balloons and banners.

Steve is decent enough to lower his gaze on the floor.

“We tried to call first,” Nat stars with an unsure expression, holding the banner down.

“Are you drunk?” Peggy asks and you quickly deny.

“Do you wanna be?” chimes in Wanda, but your mother shushes her.

“Y/N, what happened to your hair?” she asks and you grimace, running a hand trough a mess on your head.

“Have you been showering?” she questions further and Steve sniffs, disgust appearing on his face.

“What’s that smell?”

“It’s me! Okay? I stink and I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep and I’ve been eating garbage and don’t call me out on that!”

“Y/N,” Peggy takes few steps towards you with a gentle expression, “please, don’t act like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, almost too harsh, but she takes no offence.

“Like you’re the only widow in the City. Go and take a shower. I’ll do your hair and make-up. Wear something nice and celebrate with us, alright?”

You stare at her, her pleading and empathetic eyes and finally you nod, turning around and heading to your bathroom.

“Okay, troops, split up. We gotta clean it before she can protest,” you hear your mother and a collective confirmation from the others and with a heavy sight, you take off Tony’s clothes and start the shower, wincing when warm water hits your skin.

An hour later you are all clean, your hair is done nicely as well as your make-up. Peggy did a wonderful job – she even painted your nails. You asked her about the job since the two of you work together and, luckily, there’s no rush.

“They’re all very understanding, dear, but sooner or later, you’ll have to come back. And I’m sorry to say that but it all has to stop at some point. Don’t shut yourself from us,” she said softly and you offered her a smile, not knowing what to tell her. You were grateful that they came by but, to be honest, you didn’t feel like partying. It just didn’t seem right when Tony was… not around.

Then, when you shared your well-thought plans of never leaving your apartment ever again and spending the rest of your life lying on your sofa in your wedding dress – ‘which you never had’, Pegs reminded – Wanda rushed in and told you that there was a delivery for you.

“I didn’t order anything,” you explain when you look at the big pink box that sits on a kitchen table. You take a seat on the sofa, next to Nat, your eyes turning to Steve as he leans in to open the mysterious package.

 _Happy Birthday my love_ , it’s written with a blue cream, _your Tony._

“What is this? Steve, was that you? You did this?” you question, the poor man as surprised as you, even if not more.      

“No, Y/N, I swear to God it’s not me,” he denies but you frown, looking sternly at him.

“It’s not funny, so you better tell me. You arranged it?”

Steve shakes his head, gazing at his wife for support. Peggy squeezes your shoulder to get your attention and when you glance at her, she shakes his head lightly.

“Wait a minute,” Steve says and you all turn your heads to look at him curiously. On the inside of the lid there’s a Dictaphone typed to it. Steve cautiously rips it off and hands it to you.

 _Play me!,_ it says and you undo the ribbon and press play.

A slow music starts to play before you hear a familiar voice, one you would recognize everywhere.

“Hey, baby, surprise! I know it seems rather creepy but I hate the idea that I’m not gonna be there for your 30th birthday and you freak out over it. Well, it kinda kills me not to be there. Ha-ha, funny, innit?

“No, it’s not,” you mutter, placing the device on the table.

“Okay, it’s not,” Tony’s voice agrees and you involuntarily smile, “But, baby, you’re going to be so impressed right now. I have a plan, can you believe it? I’ve written you letters and they will come to you in all sorts of ways. Starting from today, cause I knew you wouldn’t step out of the apartment for a while… anyway, letter number one will arrive tomorrow. And remember, you must do what I say, okay?”

You barely nod, too mesmerized by his voice and how thoughtful this whole thing was. He came up with something for you. He was sick but still, he planned something to uplift your spirits.

“And, Y/N, don’t try to figure out how the letter are coming. It will ruin my plan but let me tell you, it’s brilliant. You’ll be so proud of me, baby! Just, go along with me on this, love. Cause the truth is, I can’t say goodbye to you yet.

So for starters, get yourself dolled up and go celebrate! You’re 30, baby, you need to get a bit crazy, take your girls and off you go! I hereby free you from celebrating with your family, especially your mom. She’s here, isn’t she?” Tony’s voice suddenly sounds a thud terrified and you can’t help but giggle at your mother’s displeased expression.

“Ohh, shit. Forgive me, please! I know she loves you, but she can be too much at times so eat a slice of this cake, put on a nice dress and get the hell out of the apartment. Nat, find a place to party!”

“On it!” Nat calls and jumps up, running to your laptop in order to search for a club or something. By now, you are grinning, holding Wanda’s hand.

“Y/N, just know that wherever I am, I’m missing you. And I love you, baby. Happy birthday,” you sigh and swallow when a lump forms in your throat, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Now, leave me with Steve, love,” the recording asks and you nod, going to your bedroom to pick a dress. You quickly find one, one of few dresses that Tony bought you and before any of you can deem the idea crazy, you, Wanda, Nat and Peggy are walking out and into a limo, driving to the club Nat found. You don’t see your mother’s worried gaze when she sees that you carry the urn with you.

Twenty minutes later you arrive at the place, which turns out to be a newly open but very popular gay club. You’re past asking about Nat’s sanity so the four of you just run with it, pretending that you’re a princess from Finland when the bodyguard refuses to let you in.

You didn’t expect to have so much fun. Even if you have ashes of your husband on your lap there are still men who wants to talk to you and comfort you. Surprisingly, they’re very supportive and when one of them opens a bottle of tequila you don’t miss a single shot.

The rest is having a great time, too. You spot your sister playing some sort of game with two young guys while Nat and Peggy are dancing in the crowd. They’re visibly happy to be given so much attention.

After couple of hours when all of you are tired of so many dudes being around, you decide to move the party to your mom’s pub where you find Steve. He greets you, evidently relieved that you’re in a good mood. He compliments the furry silly grown you have on your head and you giggle, excusing yourself and rushing to bathroom.

However, you end up in small storeroom and you lean against the shelves, filled with various alcohols, wondering how did you end in here? You hear the door being unlock and Scott comes in, unsure of how to approach.

“Sorry to interrupt, but what are you doing?” he asks, closing the door behind as he squeezes in, facing you.

“Trying to figure out why God killed my husband? Any ideas?” you mumble, the alcohol you consumed showing its effect on you.

“Well, I don’t think…” he starts and makes to exit but you grasp his arm and push him against the shelf.

“Scott?”

“Yeah.”

“If you have any idea, you have to tell me. I’m a widow and I’m distressed, as you can see.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty clear. How much did you drink?”

“Lost count after tenth shot.”

“Wow, impressive. Anyway, about why your husband died… maybe you’re being punished for something?”

“Like what?”

“Don’t know, being too happy? Too beautiful?”

“Naah, not me. I was never too happy, I was just happy enough, you know? And I’m not too beautiful.”

“Well, I think you’re hot!” Scoot declares and you raised your brows, shocked by his sudden statement.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I have a syndrome. I say stuff without thinking first. I don’t really pick up on social cues.”

“You mean you’re rude?”

“Yeah, but now I can take medications for it, so there’s that!” he grins and you chuckle.

“They have pills for rudeness?”

“I know, right?” he joins you with his own cackle before he becomes serious again.

“Hey, maybe it’s some sort of Irish curse? You’re Irish, right?”

“Well, Tony and I loved the Yankees which pretty much is against the religion…” you muse and Scott nods, his expression thoughtful.

“It can be that, I guess, that explains a lot. I love the Yankees, too, and I lost my fiancé last year.”

“Oh, really? She died?”

“No, she left with my best friend, who’s a woman. I always had this fantasy about having two girls in bed but I wish I was there for the second time. And third,” he smiles weakly and you smirk, fighting to focus your attention on his rambling.

“She said she’d still be with me if I weren’t a man.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, but that’s not the worst. That best friend my ex-fiancé slept with is my ex-ex- fiancé and we were business partners and we started the business with my money. So, I’m now left without my money, with no partner and no girl.”

“How did you get over that?”

“I had this major hooker phase for almost a year.”

“But it didn’t help?”

“No, it helped a lot, I just ran out of money. It’s cheaper to date, actually.”

“Scott, do you think you’ll find another woman to love? You think it’s possible?” you inquire, your tipsy mind somehow able to form coherent question.

“No, I don’t think so. It seems I repel the women I want most, so I’m okay with not having anyone.”

“Oh, nooo, that’s not true…” you start but before you can add anything, your stomach turns and you lower your head next to Scott, throwing out.

“Yup,” Scott says as he moves his hands to get your hair from your face, seeing you through the moment of weakness. He’s patient with you, offering you a bottle of water and running to your mother when it seems that you’re finished.

She doesn’t say a word, quickly forming a ‘help Y/N’ squad. Steve, Peggy and Nat are asked to stay at the pub for a moment, Scott lifts you bridal-style before you can get acquainted with the floor and Wanda takes the urn. They all go up the stairs and on the first floor where your mom lives.

She always keeps one room prepared for you or Wanda to stay in and she leads Scott there. He lays you carefully on the bed, Wanda places the urn on a small nightstand next to where you sleep. They both exit while your mom takes off your shoes and tenderly strokes your cheek.

You moan and reach for her hand, already dozing off.

And she stays until she is sure that you’re sound asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

You stir and moan in almost agony as the sun shines through the curtains and onto your face. You lick your lips, grimacing at the sour, foul taste in your mouth but for now you refuse to open your eyes. You hope that maybe you’ll doze off again and get couple more hours of sleep. Surely, it’s better than the sickening dull ache in your head. How much have you drunk last night?

You turn onto your back, running away from persistent rays of sunshine, which are much too bright to your liking. The movement ignites a wave of nausea to run through you but with deep breaths you push it away and squeeze your eyes shut to lure sleep to come back again.

It doesn’t help much.

As you debate in your mind whether to get up or let yourself die right here, in this bed your phone start ringing. The ringtone is loud and absolutely obnoxious and for a moment, you feel an urge to throw the device out of the window.

But for that, you need to find it first. With a grunt you sit up, blinking few times to adjust to rather sudden change of position. when you feel that you won’t throw up – _God, have I vomited on Scott?_ – you reach for your purse, which lays on a small nightstand, next to the urn.

“Morning, Tony,” you mutter as you fish out your phone and click the button to take the call without even looking who’s calling, “what?”

“Well, that’s friendly,” Peggy’s voice rings into your ear, but she doesn’t sound offended. Truth be told, she sounds just as feel and you briefly wonder how much did she have last night.

“Hi, Pegs. What the hell happened last night?”

“Tequila, my darling, and lemon drops,” she screeches and you hear her taking a sip of something, most likely a coffee.

You run your hand over face, rubbing it slightly.

“I feel like dying. My body can’t cope with that much alcohol as well as it did when I was 29. We’re dumb, Peggy.”

“We are, Y/N, I know.”

“You’re speaking so loudly…”

“Should’ve seen Steve this morning. He was all smiles and light, and I look like a zombie. He almost tripped when he saw me. How are he doing this?”

“Don’t know, honey. He must have something extra in his blood, that’s the only logical explanation.”

“Or he’s just better at drinking that we are.”

“Never tell him that, Pegs.”

“I won’t,” she chuckles and you grin as well, waiting for her to continue.

“Y/N, we’re coming back to work on Monday. I took a few days off because of that amazing part I can hardly remember and I asked them to come back with you.”

“You’re an angel, Peggy. Thank you,” you say, almost tearing up. You make a mental note to remember to bake her something good for how amazing she was.

“Can I go back to dying now?” you ask when she falls silent and you hear a crunch followed by a scoff.

“Hell no, sweetie. You gotta check your mailbox. First letter, remember?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right!”

“Call me immediately. Bye!” she hangs up and you throw your phone into the purse, jumping out of the bed. You fervently gather your things, smoothing your dress and fixing your hair. You hang your purse in a crook of your elbow and grasp the urn, sliding your feet in your high heels.

Carefully, you exit the room and descend the stairs, stopping by the pub to thank your mother and assure her that you’re feeling fine. Then, you dart through the streets, stepping as fast as the heels allow you, your heart pounding in your chest.

You can’t wait to see what Tony wrote you this time. What will he make you do? Where this whole scheme will take you? Yes, he asked you to not try to figure it our but you just can’t help yourself. It’s in your nature – you were always the one to predict the consequences and possible outcomes of everything, which usually drove Tony insane.

You arrive at your staircase in a record time. Putting the urn atop of the mailbox, you rummage in your purse, searching for keys and when you find them you let out a small ‘yay!’. You open the box with your flat’s number and take out few leaflets, what seems to be a bill and a white envelope with your name on it.

You gasp, recognizing Tony’s handwriting and slide your fingers affectionately over it. Yet, curiosity is winning over fondness and you rip it open, unfolding the page.

“ _Y/N,_

_Buy yourself that bloody bedside lamp, I know you have more bruises now, don’t you?_

_You must look your best, a disco diva always looks fabulous. So, go buy yourself a knockout dress, you’ll need it when my next letter comes._

_And, baby, you’re still confused about that job, right? I’m here to help so look for a sign and you’ll know what to do, my clever girl._

_P.S. I love you._ ”

“Oh, you and your riddles,” you murmur as you gather your stuff and climb the stairs to your apartment. Quick shower, comfy clothes and off you go for shopping!

Evening finds you laying in your bed, with your new dress on, turning on and off new bedside lamp. The urn is set next to you and you stroke it every now and then. Your gaze glides across the rooms and when you switch the lamp on you can see Tony standing in front of a mirror, trying to tame his short hair. It always seemed to have a life of its own but you loved running your fingers through it and scratch his scalp.

Light goes off and the sight disappears, replaced by Tony putting on his white shirt when you turn the lamp on again. You eye his muscles, giggling when he stretches with playful sparkles in his eyes and teasing smirk and he winks at you as he goes to the kitchen to eat his toasts.

Off you turn the light and when it light up again Tony is standing in the doorway to your bedroom, adjusting his tie and when he finishes it, he puts his bracelets on. His lips are moving, but you can’t hear what he’s talking about. It doesn’t really matter, though. He’s _here,_ you can _see_ him. He grabs his shoes and heads to the front door, disappearing.

“You’re still here, aren’t you? Tony, I know you’re around,” you say quietly, your voice full of hope and sadness but no one answers.

There’s only silence.

____

Monday comes sooner that you would want it to, but you are ready to go back to your job. Peggy and you are paired up, as per usual, and you are to show an apartment to a couple, who looks for something bigger and brighter than their current house.

“So, who lived here before?” the man, Bill, asks you after you finish complimenting on the layout and you offer him a small smile.

“A family. They’re having another baby so they needed more space. Do you have any children?” you ask politely, keeping up the small talk as Peggy shows Bill’s wife around the flat. Bill appears to be decided to buy this place but his wife is unpleased.

“Three daughters. Teenagers,” Bill replies.

“That’s nice,” you say and he nods, giving you a tight smile. You open your mouth to say something more but in the same second Bill’s wife storms in, Peggy right behind her.

“William, Peggy says that there is another offer on the table and we have to move on this.”

“I think that if you offer another hundred grand, they’ll back down,” Peggy suggests and your brows jump up, your eyes shifting to Bill. He seems to be surprised, his wife however occurs to know exactly what to do.

“Honey, maybe we should talk about this?” he says, looking at his wife, but she shakes his head, her expression stern.

“No, we don’t have time, we have to give our answer today.”

“But we had a budget…”

“I know, but we love this apartment. It is what it is, William.”

“We’re already beyond what we settled for initially. We can’t-“

You frown, your gaze jumps between William and his wife. She seems to be absolutely deaf to what he says, caught up in her own decisions and wants, unable to her his reasons. This makes you angry but you stay quiet, letting them solve it. It’s their fight, after all.

“We’ll make it work.”

“Honey, think about another area maybe.”

“I’m not living in Brooklyn!” she suddenly exclaims, spitting the name of the are as if it was the worst curse. You decide that you had enough. Someone has to know some common sense into her, right?

“Ma’am, will you listen to him?” you chime in, and both the wife and Peggy snap their heads to look at you, shocked.

“What?” they both ask and you look over at William.

“He’s obviously worried sick about this. Just look at him, he’s so pale…”

“Y/N,” Peggy’s tone is warning but you don’t listen to her.

“Who are you to tell me how should I talk to my husband?” the wife asks, resentful and angry.

“You shouldn’t push him into it if he doesn’t want to,” you say, straightening your back and the lady knits her brows.

“I will push him as I want, he’s _my_ husband. I want this apartment,” she declares, turning to William.

“Say no, Bill,” you quickly throw in and the lady sights.

“Why are you still talking, miss? William, don’t listen to her.”

“She’s a damn tyrant, Bill. Does she keep your balls in her bag?”

“Y/N!” Peggy interjects but before she can add anything else the lady steps in front of her, her eyes blazing with anger.

“You bitch, shut up in that instant!” she demands and you scoff.

“Hell no, brat,” you tap your feet onto the floor for a better effect and you know that is it. You have officially lost your job.

“Oh, let me tell you, missy!” she takes a step forward, but her husband jumps in to prevent any of you from fist fight in case one happens.

“I’m listening! You tell me, I can’t wait!” you shout as Peggy wraps an arm around you and pushes you backwards.

“He’s my husband and I want this apartment, I want it, I’m not living in Brooklyn, for God’s sake!”

“And what is so wrong with Brooklyn, huh?!” you attack and try to wiggle from Peggy’s grip but she’s stronger.

____

“Tony…” you whine as you open the door to your flat, a box with all the stuff you kept at work in your hands, “was it that sign you wrote about? A fighting couple?”

You close the door and set the box on the kitchen table, feeling too tired to unpack it. You make your way to your bedroom, sitting on the drawer, next to the urn. You look at it.

“I don’t think you would be happy that I got fired. I’m too picky, I know, but I started to kinda like this job. And you know what my boss, now ex-boss said? I’m smart-mouthed and I bicker too much!” you mimic your ex-boss’s manner of speaking, bending your leg to unzip your boot.

As you take it off and silver thing catches your eye. It’s laying on the floor, underneath a small chest of drawers, in which you keep your underwear. You take few steps and kneel to pick the thing up and you bring it to the light to get a better look.

It a clip from Tony’s suspenders, the one that somehow tore itself away and hit him in the eye when your husband attempted at dancing and doing a striptease. Your throat clench at the memory and you look around the room, quickly finding a frame with a photograph of you and Tony.

You place it on the chest of drawers and lean the clip against the frame. Then, you sit back by the urn, resting your hand on it and caressing the wood lovingly.

“I miss you so much, you bloody fool,” you whisper and let the tears ran freely.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs mentioned in this part are: “Gett off” by Prince (in flashback) and “I love you ‘till the end” by The Pogues

_**Spring** _

You are sitting by the kitchen table, your laptop placed in front of you, opened at the page with job ads. You need to find a job, otherwise you’ll have to borrow money from mom, which isn’t really what you want to do.

Wanda, who came by to visit you two days ago, told you that she’ll look for something for you and if not, she’ll give – not borrow – you some money. Or she’ll pay your rent until you get a job.

Gosh, she is the best sister you could’ve dreamt for. Supporting, a bit crazy, but not obtrusive, Wanda always had your back and was there for you when you needed her. Even from across the globe, she always answered your call or reply to your e-mail within an hour after getting it.

“Screw it, there’s nothing I could do,” you murmur to yourself, reading an ad after an ad, none of which seems to be suitable. Yes, you used to change your job quite often, as Tony was kind to mention during your last big fight, but now there is absolutely nothing that catches your eye.

“Keep looking, baby,” you hear Tony’s voice and for a moment, he sits opposite you, sipping on his coffee. You sigh, blinking away the tears pricking at your eyes.

“Easier said than done, honey. You know that I’m not into babysitting and, apparently, half of New York had babies lately.”

When you look away from the screen to give Tony ‘the face’ he’s not there. He’s not sitting across from you, watching you intently as he used to. He’s not drinking his coffee even if the cup is placed right there, as if Tony would come and grab it any moment.

He’s not here anymore and you have to finally accept it. The thing is, you’re not ready. You’re not ready to let him go and move on.

Your eyes focus on the screen once more but before you can read another advertisement, a knock on the door tears your attention from the page. You frown, wondering who it may be. Surely, not Peggy or Nat – they’re at work (lucky them), not Wanda. It might be your mom, but she would’ve called you beforehand.

You swing the door open, revealing a tall man, dressed in all green. He has a hat and a bowtie, too, and in one hand he holds  balloons, green of course.

He doesn’t look very happy.

“Are you Y/N Stark?” he asks, his gaze rather bored. It’s easy to notice that he’d rather do anything else than that.

“If I am, will you sing for me?” you inquire, pondering whether to shut the door in his face or wait until he gives you the letter. Because you are 100% sure it’s Tony’s doing. The dude looks like a leprechaun, of course Tony would hire a one for you.

“Yes,” the guy replies and you start to shake your head.

“Oh God, please no.”

“Lady, please don’t make it an issue. I was hired to do that.”

“You have a letter for me, right?”

“Yes, I do. But I was paid to sing you first.”

“What’s the song you were asked to sing?”

“Yah Mo Be There,” he says with a grimace and you roll your eyes.

“Just give me the damn letter.”

“Oh, no, I have to sing you a song! What if I get reported?”

“By who? And where? To leprechaun union?” you knit your brows together, watching the man stamp his foot on the floor.

“And to think that I was on Broadway,” he says angrily, taking an envelope from the pocket of his green pants, “on stage with Al fucking Pacino. I’m done with this shit. You want the balloons?”

“No, you can have them,” you say, almost pulling the letter from his hand as he offers you to take it.

When you hold it safely in your grasp, you swing the door closed, shouting a ‘have a nice day!’ at the man. You quickly tear the envelope and slide the folded paper out of it.

“ _Y/N,_

_My lovely disco diva, you’re on! Karaoke this month, you know the place. Perform and you might be rewarded. You’ll never know until you go on stage._

_P.S. I love you”_

“Oh, no, I’m not doing this,” you whine.

“You are, baby,” Tony calls from behind you and you shake your head.

“No, you bastard, I’m not and don’t tell me that ‘yes, I am’.”

“But you are, Y/N, remember last time? It was fun, right?”

______

_Tony should’ve been a rock star. Damn, you were pretty sure that in some parallel universe, he must be, considering the way he practically owned the stage every time he walked on it._

_And his voice! Deep, hoarse, manly. Women always screamed when he sung, joining him when the chorus came. Add to that his dreamy look and boom! Every girl was his._

_The song ended, the crowd clapped generously and, after taking a breath, Tony bore his eyes into yours. Uh-oh, there comes trouble. You never had fun while going out for karaoke and Tony knew it. Unlike Steve, Peggy and Nat, you would just sip on your drink, not even once singing along._

_“Thank you very much,” Tony bowed, gaining another round of applause. He cleared his throat and reach for his glass, drinking half of his whiskey._

_From your right side, Nat cheered and yelled for Tony to sing one more song._

_“Well, I think it’s time to give the stage to someone else. Who wants a shot? You? Huh? Young lady over there?”_

_There was a chatter rising up and Tony, of course, only encouraged the crowd._

_“Come on, don’t be shy. It’ll be fun.”_

_“What about Y/N?!” out of sudden, Steve exclaimed and you smacked the back of his head, hissing at him to stop it._

_Tony heard his friend and gave you a sweet smile, prompting all the heads to turn around and look at you._

_“My baby? Naaah, I don’t know about that, Stevie. Y/N’s my wife, you know,” he turned to the crowd, “ and I love her, very very much. But she doesn’t have the guts to do something like this,” he said and finished his drink. You narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head slowly. He was challenging you, you knew that._

_“In fact, she didn’t even want to come here in the first place. She babbled about some long day at the office” he snorted and you heaved a sigh,” nope, she’d never do that,” he bored his gaze into yours, a teasing sparkle lighting up. People clamored and Tony winked at you, grinning like an idiot he was._

_“Oh, you think she’d do it? Well, let me tell you something. I bet a hundred dollars she doesn’t go on that stage.”_

_A collective “Ooooh” rung through the crowd and Nat glanced at you with quirked eyebrow. And you, you took a sip of your drink and stood up. The crowd cheered._

_“Make it two, sweetie,” you declared and made your way to the stage, turning your back on the audience when music started to play through the speakers._

_You swayed your hips, unbuttoning last few buttons of your shirt and tying it over your now bare stomach. You also undid it higher, exposing a bit of your cleavage. The skirt went a little lower on your hips and when you turned around, the crowd went absolutely crazy._

_Tony’s mouth fell agape but when Steve patted his shoulder, they both laughed aloud._

_You slid the headband off and threw it to Tony who caught it and whirled above his head._

_“That’s my wife!” he shouted and you smiled brightly, dancing to the beat of the song._

_‘Can I put this in a way so as not to offend or unnerve_

_There’s a rumor goin’ all round that u ain’t been gettin’ served’_

_You pointed a finger at Tony and bucked your hips, gaining a loud cheer and a smirk from your husband._

_‘They say that u ain’t u know what_

_In baby who knows how long_

_It’s hard for me to say what’s right_

_When all I wanna do is wrong’_

_Moving your body seductively, you sent a kiss Tony’s way and he feigned to faint at that. You gyrated, and shook your shoulders, singing next lines of the song._

_‘Gett off,  23 positions in a 1 night stand_

_Gett off,  I’ll only call u after if u say I can_

_Gett off, let a woman be a woman and a man be a man’_

_You shook your ass, sliding your hands down your body. At this point, you felt like a star, people were cheering loudly, applauding your incredible performance._

_‘Gett off, if u want to, baby, here I am, here-‘_

_Yet, you didn’t finish the line. Just as you were about to twirl, you stepped on cables, your foot got stuck and you fell spectacularly._

_Steve called for an ambulance and Tony and you were taken to ER, where you found out you’d broken your nose and twisted your ankle. You looked terrible and even Tony’s praises about your performance didn’t make it easier. And, obviously, he was the one to blame. He had challenged you, after all._

_You hadn’t said a word to him for whole day after that, but nevertheless he had taken care of you._

_____

“I was so stupid. I was such a bitch sometimes!” you say, sitting at the table while your friends took their seats. Steve and Peggy are on your right, Nat on your left and Scott and Wanda are on a hunt for drinks. The urn, of course, is with you, placed safely under the table.

“Sweetie, you were married,” Pegs says calmly, “married people sometimes make each other feel like shit. It’s just that.”

“Besides, Tony knew how crazy you were about him. He told me all the time,” Steve assures and Peggy nods, resting her hand on your shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly.

“I wish I would’ve told him that,” quietly whispering, you lower your gaze onto the table.

“Well, you can tell him now,” Steve gives you a small, warm smile and you nod, unable to find right words to thank them for their support.

Meanwhile, Natasha is shamelessly ogling a guy who at the moment, prepares the karaoke.

“Fuck me, isn’t he delicious? You could serve coffee on that ass,” she states and Steve rolls his eyes.

“That’s why you can’t find a husband, Nat. You have to be so vulgar? He’s not a piece of meat, you know.”

“Oh, sorry, Steve. I keep forgetting how sensitive you are about your flat ass.”

“You act like a man,” Steve continued, untouched by Nat’s comment. You and Peggy share a look but decide to not interfere.

“And then you complain men don’t want you.”

“Oh, is that why? I thought it was something else, thank you for enlightening me,” she says with sarcasm hinting her voice and Steve sighs, “because I was convinced that’s because I deserve the best. And I’m not settling for less than that. I know he’s there, he’s just with all the wrong women,” she finishes and shrugs, “you can laugh at me as much as you want, Steve, but after centuries of dealing with men who look at my boobs instead of my eyes, who pinch my ass instead of shaking my hand, I am now give a divine right to stare at a man’s backside as much as I damn please and comment it as vulgar as I want to. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Steve replies bitterly. You all know better than to argue with Nat – she defends her opinions like a lioness and very rarely any of you can win a fight with her. Also, she has a point.  

“Alright, New York, give a warm welcome to our next singer. Put your hands together for Y/N,” the guy Nat eyed speaks when the mic is set up and you rise from your seat and make your way on the stage, taking a deep breath.

Your friends are watching you, as well as the others. Scott and Wanda finally come with beverages and Wanda gives you a supportive smile and an encouraging nod.

However, you hardly notice them. You blink and just like that everyone disappears and at the table you and the rest occupy sits Tony. His elbow is propped on the surface, his head rests on his palm and his beautiful eyes are fixed on you as if you were the only person in the world. And you are well aware that it’s true – in his eyes, you were the only one.

‘I just want to tell you nothing

You don’t want to hear.

All I want is for you to say

Ohh.. why don’t you just take me

where I’ve never been before

I know you want to hear me

Catch my breath.

I love you ‘till the end…’

You finish, your voice broken, your eyes glassy but Tony is there, smiling and happy and you refuse to believe that he passed away hardly four months ago. How can he when he looks at you with so much love and adoration?

‘I love you ‘till the end…’ you sing once more and wipe at your cheek when a single tear rolls from your eye. People are clapping and you curl your lips into a tight smile, leaving the stage and quickly going straight into Peggy’s embrace.

Nat is at the bar talking to the guy that caught her eye few moments ago and your sister is, as per usual, surrounded by three or four men but she seems pleased. You thank Pegs and go to grab a drink. You take the urn with you and at the bar, you chose your favorite drink. Then, you go to an unoccupied booth and sit the urn on a couch, taking a seat next to it.

“You happy, my dearest husband? I almost cried in front of everyone,” you say quietly, looking around to see if anyone is coming near you. They would think you’re crazy or something for speaking to yourself.

“Hi!” a voice calls from your left and when you look at the intruder, you grin, recognizing Scott.

“Hey,” you greet him and pat a spot on the couch, “sit down. I won’t throw up tonight, I promise.”

“Hello, Tony, you’re looking good. Lost weight, huh?” he sits and tells in the urn’s direction and you chuckle, endeared by his behavior.

“You’re a terrible singer, by the way.”

“You’re right,” you admit sincerely.

“I’d be very embarrassed, if I were you,” Scott says and you giggle.

“Did you take you meds today?” Scott cackles and you give him a toothy grin.

“Nope, I thought I’d come here instead. Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shrug and Scott smiles.

“I’m feeling kinda hungry so maybe you want to go for a bite or a drink with me elsewhere?”

“Oh, Scott,” you say softly, “I’m sorry but no.”

“That’s fine,” he assures and you mouth a ‘thank you’. He stands up and make to go away, making you grimace. He is so sweet and gentle with you and it’s easy to see that he fancies you but you’re not ready for another man to step into your life so soon after Tony passed away.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to throw it at you like that,” Scott stars, speaking fast as he re-takes his seat, “but what do women want? It’s so hard to figure out. They want us to ask. They don’t want us to ask. They want us to make a move, not make a move. It’s so confusing! What do you people want?” you lean in to him with a smile when he ends and Scott focuses his attention on you.

“I will tell you, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone that I did.”

“I promise,” he says pompously, resting his hand over his heart and you chuckle.

“It’s sacred secret, Scott.”

“Sacred, I get it. No word will come out of my mouth.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” he fidgets in his seat, shifting a bit closer to you and your face becomes serious.

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“All right, so the truth is…” you begin, purposely prolonging last word, “we have absolutely no idea what we want.”

“I knew it!” Scott exclaims and you straighten in your seat, looking at him with a wide smile.

“Thank you for sharing the secret with me, I really appreciate it. And, Y/N, if you ever want to go out, to do anything…” he reaches to back pocket of his jeans, fishing out a pen and small notebook. He scribbles something in it and rips the page off, handing the paper to you. “I’ll wait for you call. I promise, I’m not looking for a thing right now. Just flirting in good faith.”  

“That’s very nice of you, Scott,” you say as you briefly glance at the paper, before putting it in your purse.

“We can always start a very weird friendship. Scott and Y/N, joined by self-pity, bitterness and vomit.”

You laugh at his comment and Scott joins you.

“I’d like that,” you say when your laughter dies down and he nods

“Me too.”

“Come on, let’s get you a drink and have a toast to weird friendships.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Look at you,” Wanda says as you dry your hands with a clothe and hang it on its place. You have just finished washing the dishes after you and your sister had a lunch. You have grown to hate eating alone. “What a good housewife you make.”

“Housewidow, you meant to say,” you correct bitterly, a sad smile appearing on your face. You re-take your seat by the kitchen table and wrap your fingers around a cup of steaming coffee.

“Y/N, you’ll be fine. You’re strong,” she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently, a supportive, warm expression on her face. “And you should apologize mom. She’s worried about you.”

“She said the letters are stupid and I shouldn’t follow what they say,” you mumble, the anger and hurt still present inside you. your mother meant well, at least she thought that, but for you it was mean and painful.

“She simply doesn’t want you to stay in the past. Tony’s gone and you need to move on.”

“He was taken from me, Wanda.”

“Yes, and saying to mom that your husband didn’t choose to leave was a very nice way to stab her right in the heart. Brilliant, Y/N,” she says, her voice harder but far from offended or scolding. Wanda was always a kind spirit. Maybe a bit crazy and sometimes reckless but she meant well for everyone she knew.

And she’s right. Pointing out that it wasn’t Tony’s choice to leave you was a really terrible way in an attempt to win an argument with your mom. Your daddy left her when you and Wanda were young and never even send you a Christmas  or birthday card. She had to rise both of you alone and work to earn money for your needs.

“I’m a horrible daughter, aren’t I?” you whine and Wanda nods making you cover your face in shame.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you. She understands that you’re mourning.”

“I just want it to stop, Wanda. I want him to come back and say that it was a nightmare, that none of this ever happened.”

“Aw, sweetheart…” she rises from her seat and rushes to your side, fast to cuddle you to her chest. You don’t cry, though, you have cried enough for first few weeks after Tony’s death.

Instead, you remain quiet, cradled in your sister’s embrace, feeling her warmth seeping into your body. It’s a reassuring feeling, something that makes you feel loved and not alone.

Wanda whispers words of support and reassurance and with every passing minute you feel sadness and pain going away. they don’t disappear completely – they’ve taken residence in your chest and it seems they do not plan on letting go.

A knock disturbs the quiet moment you’re sharing with your sister and Wanda lets go of you. You walk to the door and open it, thanking the man when he hands you your laundry. You had few things that needed to be cleaned by professionals, you were too afraid to damage them in your washing machine.

You lay the clothes on the sofa, checking if all of them are given back. you see your favorite coat, two of your dresses and.. wait, you didn’t give that to cleaning.

“Holy shit…” you pant, drawing Wanda’s attention. She comes to your side and her eyes go wide as she recognizes the item you hold in front of you.

“Isn’t that Tony’s leather jacket?”

“It is, but I didn’t…” you don’t finish, because when you unpack the jacket from the foil, a written message catches your eye.

 _We found it in the jacket_ , it reads and before your brain can catch up, your hands are ripping the envelope open.

“ _Y/N,_

_My leather jacket is now yours. I always loved how you looked in it. But, baby, you don’t need the rest of my stuff. It’s time to make yourself some space in that apartment. I won’t be mad, I promise._

_P.S. I love you_ ”

You remain silent for a long while, staring at the leather jacket as if Tony would materialize in it if you wished hard enough.

Wanda stays by your side, resting her palm on your shoulder as you proceed the message Tony has given to you. You know he’s right – you didn’t get rid of his clothes and other things only because you are hoping that, by some miracle, he would come back.

Giving away his things means letting him go and you are definitely not ready for that yet.

“It’s too early,” you say barely louder than a whisper and Wanda leans forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“It’s not, Y/N, Tony asked you to do it. He wants you to do it.”

“Will you help me?” you turn your eyes at her. Wanda nods and gives you a warm smile.

With her help, Tony’s wardrobe is emptied and his clothes sorted and packed in boxes. You decided that some of his belongings should be sent to Ireland, to his parents and so you prepare one box for them.

Apart from the jacket, you leave yourself one of his bracelets, the one you bought him simply because you imagined it would look good with the others. Tony wouldn’t mind, you knew that.  

You hang the jacket in previously his wardrobe and Wanda hesitantly hangs your coat next to it. And just like that, it’s decided. You know you can’t bear the sight of empty closet so all of your coats and jackets lands there.  

“Thank you,” you pull Wanda in a hug when two of you are done. She rubs your back few times before she says that she has to go. A job interview, she explains, but she doesn’t think she’ll get it. Not enough experience.

You wish her good luck nonetheless and when she walks out, you stare at the boxes wondering if it’s really a good idea to donate his clothes to a homeless shelter. Those people need them, you’re aware of that, but what if you’ll see someone wearing Tony’s sweater?

“Oh, come on, baby, run with it. I like that idea,” his voice calls cheerfully from your left and you see him leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

“Do you?” you ask, not really convinced. You come to the sofa and sit on it, laying your head on the back of the furniture.

“Yeah, of course! Besides, you won’t wear my stuff, not that you didn’t look great in them. You have yours and homeless don’t have any.”

“Good point, honey. So, you say ‘yay’ to my idea?”

“I say ‘yay!’. And do it today. I’ll check on you!” he half-threatens, half-jokes and when you turn your head to look at him, he’s gone. He’s never been there, you remind yourself and sigh, the familiar pain in your chest coming to live.

_____

Two hours later you walk next to Scott, maneuvering a sandwich in one of your hands and a coffee in the other. You used the number he gave you during karaoke night and called him to ask if he was up for a stroll. You also wanted to ask him to help you take Tony’s stuff out, but you decided to mention it through phone. Just as you expected, Scott eagerly said yes and so now, here you are…

“You took me to an Irish famine memorial? To eat a corned beef sandwich?” Scott asks, disbelief and a hint of humor in his voice and you smile, unwrapping your meal.

“Tony used to bring me here. He thought it was the best way to honor the dead. And well, I wholeheartedly agree.”

“You have a twisted sense of humor, Y/N. I like it very much,” he admits and takes a bite of his sandwich, humming contently.

“I’m sorry I always bring Tony up,” you say and sip on your coffee, gazing at Scott.

“You should be, I’m starting to get sick of it,” he jokes and you chuckle, but you get the point. Scott and you may not be dating but talking about Tony and Tony only may be tiring for him. You sure he means no harm and doesn’t want to sadden you in any way.

You look around when you take a bite of your sandwich and you eyes land on a couple, a man and a woman in their 70ties or 80ties. She appears to be explaining something to the men and he stares at the map, trying to figure out the way to wherever they’re heading.

“Now that’s a real till-the-death-do-us-part couple,” you say softly and Scott follows your gaze, chewing his sandwich.

“Yeah, they’re probably left Noe’s arc holding hands,” says Scott in his usual jesting manner and you’re about to answer when he adds, “we’re so damn arrogant. We’re afraid of aging so we do everything to prevent it, not seeing how beautiful it is to live your whole life with another person. It’s a privilege, I think, to grow old with someone who doesn’t drive you crazy and makes you think about committing a murder. It’s sweet,” he finishes and attempts to stuff his mouth with as much of the sandwich as he can which makes you laugh uncontrollably.

“It’s good, innit?” you tease and he swallows, letting out a small laughter.

Then, the two of you eat in silence, mostly, apart from thoughts about people coming to see the memorial. Time passes by quickly and while Scott and you are heading out, you decide it’s time for your ask.

“Scott, can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I packed Tony’s stuff, but it’s too much for me to take it out on my own. Can you do it for me? I think I need someone who didn’t know him personally to help with getting rid of his things.”

“Al right, I can help you get rid of Tony,” Scott says nonchalantly, nodding his head and you roll your eyes.

“That was rude. Did you take your pill today?”

“Nope. Doesn’t go well with sandwiches, you know.”

“Oh, you’re awful.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grins and you chuckle.

It doesn’t take long before you arrive at your apartment, Scott at your feet. He doesn’t go further than to the kitchen, silently glancing at the boxes you prepared.

“If you like something, feel free to take it.”

Scott dismisses what you just said, instead asking where do you want him to take it.

“Homeless shelter. We walked past one, remember?”

“Yes. Okay then, I’m gonna start the purge now. Why are you looking at me like that? Something’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just… You’re the only man I’ve been alone with in this flat beside Tony,” you shrug, “it’s okay but I need some adjustment first. I’m going to change, okay?”

“Okay,” Scott calls as you go to your bedroom and open the closet to pick more comfortable clothes. The dress you’re wearing is nice but it’s black and you are a bit sick of that color.

You hear a quiet grunt and then the door are open and shut. Scott began taking out Tony’s stuff.

 _It’s for the good_ , you assure yourself, not wanting to look into living room and see that there are less boxes than there was before. _I’ll be fine_ , you say as you wiggle off the dress and slide your favorite jeans, _I’ll be fine_.  

Scott ended up in a bit more than an hour and he told you that the worker couldn’t believe that they were given so much clothes. They all looked happy, he’d said and you smiled but you couldn’t stop the sadness from appearing once again.

Scott left after you offered him a tea, apparently realizing that you needed some time alone. You immediately went to bed, trying not to cry but failing. You were sure you had no more tears to shed but there they were, streaming down your cheeks. You cried yourself to sleep but woke up in the middle of the night.

You take a shower and change into your pajama, hoping that it will make sleeping easier. It’s hard for you to get used to being alone in a bed meant for two people but slowly, it takes you less and less to fall asleep.

Now, however, sleep evades you. You squeeze your eyes shut and decide to just wait. If you don’t fall asleep in next hour, you’ll get up and may as well bake a pie or something. Better than laying pointlessly in a bed, right?

“Always so impatient,” the voice of a man you love rings from behind you and in next minute his arm circle around your waist, pressing your back to his chest.

“I feel you hugging me, Tony,” you murmur quietly as if rising your voice could break the spell.

“That’s because I am, love.”

“I can’t remember the last time somebody held me like that,” you say, contented when you feel his nose nuzzling your hair.

“So, you haven’t found new husband yet?”

“Oh, shut up,” you cackle and Tony joins you.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re so brave.”

“But I miss you,” you complain, stroking his palm and he moves his fingers to lace with yours.

“I know, I miss you too,” he says and you sigh when he brushes his lips against your shoulder. This time, you fall asleep easily, feeling Tony hugging you closely to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this part is “The Galway Girl”.

**_Summer_ **

By now you are familiar, more than you have ever wished to, with the exact times when postman comes with letters.

So, at that very moment, you stand next to the mailbox, near the exit of your building, and watch the man as he sorts the pile of letters in his grip, sliding them one by one into proper boxes.

He glimpses at you and you flash him a tight smile, not wanting to show for impatient you are. You haven’t received any messages from Tony for more than 3 weeks now and you start to wonder what he’s gotten prepared for you next.

A challenge, you are sure of that. But it still remains mystery what sort of challenge it will be and the mailman glimpses at you again, rummaging through letters to fish out yours to, apparently, gets to be ridden of you as soon as possible.

He hands you an envelope with your name on it and you open it quickly, not caring if you damage it or not. What’s inside matters the most and when you unfold the paper and read what it says, you frown.

“Steve knows what to do?” you murmur to yourself. The postman snorts and you rise your gaze at him.

“Lady, you should call that Steve guy. I ain’t got nothing more for you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, not paying attention to him anymore. You ascend the stairs, rushing to your apartment and when you find you cell, you dial Steve’s number. He picks up after third ring.

“I know, Y/N, I’ll be at your place in two hours. See you!”

“Thank you, Steve!” you call before he hangs up. You sit on the sofa, the letter still in your hands and you wonder, what it will be this time.

“You’re not gonna tell me, honey? Want me to crack my brain wondering what you planned?” you ask into the flat, not expecting any answer. After the night when you felt Tony’s embrace, you haven’t heard of seen him around.

It’s good, on one side. On the other – you still miss him, you miss like hell. His jokes, the stupid faces he made to cheer you up, the quiet singing when he was focused on something. Those little things that made your apartment so full of him were now forever gone and, despite all your efforts, the place still seems to be too silent.

You sigh and get on your feet, deciding to pick something nice before Steve get here. At least, you’ll make a lovely widow, as Wanda likes to comment so often.

____

Steve arrives as he promised, two hours after your call. He said he received a letter as well, with the directions to a travel agency. He has no idea what Tony came up with, he’s said, all he got was the name of the agency and that you have to ask for Kate. She knows what to do.

And so, the two of you walk into the place, looking around it curiously. Your eyes slide over the offers hung on the wall behind the desks. All you can see are names of exotic locations, few offers for a trip around the States and two or three to Europe. Nothing that would help you figure out what Tony’s idea might be.

Steve tugs gently on your elbow to get your attention and when you look at him, he points to the desk further in the room, where a blonde woman sits. She’s focused on the screen in front of her but she’s the only one available so you both approach her.

“Are you Kate?” Steve asks politely and the woman turns her attention to the two of you. Her eyes immediately widen when she takes you in and she gasps, tears filling her big eyes.

“You’re Y/N, aren’t you?” her voice breaks slightly and she reaches under her desk to take out a box of tissues.

You nod, not knowing what to say after such reaction and Kate sobs quietly as she motions for the two of you to sit.

“I’m so sorry but your husband spoke so fondly about you when he was here. It’s so beautiful, what he’d done. We all cried our eyes out when he left,” she explains, appearing to be ashamed of her reaction and you give her a comforting smile, asking about Tony’s visit in the place.

“Yes, right. He came here to book a trip for you and two of your friends,” she opens a drawer in her desk and takes out a brochure and three plane tickets, “the place is reserved for only the three of you. You’ll find all the details inside that leaflet.”

Her voice is shaking again so you turn your eyes at the papers in your hand. When you read the name of the location you let out a gasp, your heart skips a beat.

Ireland. Tony arranged a trip to Ireland for you. To his hometown, to be precise.

You blink rapidly, trying to will away the tears pricking at your eyes. You don’t know how to feel about it, to be honest. Isn’t it too early for that? Does Tony want you to visit his parents?

“What the hell does he want me to do?” you whisper and Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder, grabbing a tissue and handing it to you.

“There’s only one way to find out, dear.”

“I don’t know if I want to go there, Steve. It will break my heart…”

“Do you trust him?” he asks and you nod in response, wiping at your cheeks when couple of drops escape your eyes. “Well, then you go there and see what he prepared.”

______

Nat and Peggy were so excited about the trip that their elation spread into you, as well, and when you landed in Ireland you were wearing a huge smile on your face instead of repulsive broody grimace, as Nat called it.

To get to the guesthouse Tony booked for you, you rented a car, big enough to contain your baggage. You had to use GPS to locate it but the ride there went by smoothly and quicker than you expected.

It is around 6 PM when you stop the car before a small brick house. It has two floors, a balcony and a backyard – as it promised in the brochure – and Peggy storms into it as if she’s chased by the devil himself.

Nat only roll her eyes.

“Dear god, how are we supposed to get all her bags in there? Did she pack her whole flat? Shit, I hope I won’t find Steve in one of her suitcases.”

“Nat, stop,” you scold, although playfully and you get out of the car first and walk to the trunk, opening it. Natasha has a point, to be honest, Peggy packed at least a hundred of bags.

You struggle to take one of them out  when Nat comes from the other side of the car and tries to help you with your task. Much to avail, but that doesn’t stop the two of you from attempting to take your luggage out, cursing under your breaths all the way through it.

“Y/N!” out of sudden, Peggy’s shout reaches you and you jump in surprise.

“Oh, what now?” Nat grunts, finally succeeding in taking out the first of many bags from the trunk and you knit your brows, wondering why Peggy sounded so urgent.

“Y/N, come here!” Pegs calls one again and, after exchanging a look with Nat, the two of you leave the baggage and run inside, heading to a kitchen.

Peggy stands by the table, a paper in her hands.

“Tony left me a letter.”

“What it says?” you feel a rush of anticipation coursing through you when you come to her side, Nat following suit.

“Hey there, Big Mama.

Make sure my baby has a good time on that little vacation I sent you on. Make sure you and Steve do whatever the hell you want to, and that my baby does things, too. She may be afraid, you know,” her voice breaks as she reaches for your hand to squeeze it, “so, you have to take her fishing.”

The three of you laughs, Nat shakes her head, but the idea is great and you know it.

“He kept talking about taking me on a lake since forever,” you say, remembering how many times Tony proposed it but you always found an excuse.

“And, Pegs, be sure to give yourself a big, sweaty kiss from me. Tony.” she finishes and you share an affectionate smile with Peggy before turning to Natasha, who is now exiting the room.

“I bet a have a letter, too! Don’t you dare forget about me, Tony!” she mumbles as she goes around the building, making her way to bedroom first.

Bingo!

Before the letter is opened, the three of you decide to take your stuff to your rooms and make a tea. An hour later, you are sitting in the backyard, the chilly breeze playing with your hair and Nat unfolds the message Tony left her.

“My sweet Natasha – oh, that’s a good start – you’re on fun duty. Take my Y/N to Whelan’s, my favorite pub. You’ll get to hear beautiful music and meet wonderful people there. And, Nat, you’re damn sure going to heaven for being my baby’s friend. I’m making all the arrangements up here for you. I have few hot men lined up, but don’t you rush! Love you, Tony.”

“Let me see it,” you ask and Natasha passes the letter to you, a sad smile tugging on her lips.

“I don’t know how you do it, Y/N.”

You shrug, absentmindedly tracing Tony’s handwriting with the pad of your finger.

“Something’s wrong?” Peggy inquires and you try to smile but what comes out is at best a tight smirk.

“I didn’t get a letter.”

“Well, he probably didn’t love you as much as us,” Nat teases, Peggy nod her head and you eventually crack a smile.

No need to ruin the mood. You got the instructions, time to follow them, right?

____

Evening comes and so the three of you go to the pub Tony told you to. The place is full of people, at every age. You hear a soft murmur of a guitar, but the table you are sitting by doesn’t have a direct view on a stage. It’s close to the bar, though, which is what you care for the most.

A waitress appears with a tray with your drinks. You ordered a glass of Guiness, Nat got a whiskey and Peggy settled for a juice. She said that someone has to be sober to get you safely to beds.

You thank the girl when he places your beer in front of you and you are about to start teasing Peggy about the zero alcohol rule she puts on herself when Nat straightens in her seat, her lips slightly apart.

“Holy fuck, look at that. Look at that!” she exclaims and you shift toward Peggy to see whatever made you so bothered.

“Oh god, have mercy,” Peggy mumble when her eyes land on a mysterious object and you tilt your head to look around the column, obscuring your view on the stage.

Behind a microphone, there is a man, sitting on a chair, a guitar placed on his lap. He is around your age, maybe few years older, you asset. His dark, shoulder-length hair is tied in a low bun but hew rebellious strands are brushing his face and sharp jaw. He’s wearing plain grey t-shirt and black jeans, both garments hugging tightly to his muscled body. He smirks, his grey eyes sliding over the people gathered in the pub and for a moment you lose yourself in a though of kissing those full, pink lips.

“I’m not dreaming, right? You’re seeing that too?”

“That sinful god? Damn right I am,” Nat says in a husky voice and you giggle, watching the man’s fingers dancing over the strings as he plays the last chords of a song. He finishes shortly after, a round of applause running through the audience. He places the guitar by the chair as he steps off the stage, grabbing a glass of beer on his way.

“Oh, god, he’s coming here,” Peggy stammers and the three of you shift to the other side, staring at the men as he comes to the bar.

“Sweetheart, how long has it been?” Pegs chimes from your right and you shot her a brief peek before fixating your eyes at the man again.

“How long has been what?”

“Jesus, how long has _it_ been?” she tries again and your mouth fall agape when you realize what she’s asking about.

“Peggy, no.”

“Oh, yeah, babe, you’re gonna talk to him.”

“No, I am not!”

“Come one, Y/N,” Nat joins, sliding her glass of whiskey towards you. You take a sip and swallow the liquor, grimacing at its burning taste. “That’s my girl. You know what to do, you just heard him. Flatter him, tell him that you like it.”

“We don’t have those in States,” Peggy adds, pushing you to go and you stand up, feeling anxious and excited at the same time. You haven’t talked to a guy in a pub in, to be honest, probably 10 years but this one… this one is a walking miracle and you will regret it if you don’t try.

You adjust your hair as you make your way towards him and you force a smile to spread on your lips but just as you are about to say hi, two young girls approach him. You round the column, sliding next to Natasha.

“You had it, girl, what’s wrong?”

“I’m an old married widow, how am I supposed to compare with those chicks?”

“Oh come one, you’re much better than them! You’re experienced.”

“And you’re American, you have foreign exotic stuff going…”

“Peggy, there’s nothing exotic about being an American,” you state bitterly and yelp when Natasha tugs on your jacket.

“Listen here, Y/N. You go there and talk to him or else I’m gonna spank you. You look hot,” she puffs your hair a little, “you’re sexy and you’ll get the guy. Go!” she pushes you out and you struggle to stand still as you take a step forward, nearing the guy.

He notices you almost instantly and curls his lips in an inviting smile, making your legs feel like jelly. Shouldn’t it be illegal for a man to look so good?

“Hello,” he says, his voice deep and a bit hoarse, probably from singing.

“Hi,” you’re positive your smile looks awfully goofy but you can’t help it from appearing, “I just wanted to say that I really loved your music.”

His smile widen and you notice wrinkles around his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.. I mean, you play beautifully. Sorry,” you cup your cheek, feeling it getting warm and the man scratches his nose.

“Um.. thanks…” he prolongs the word and makes it sound like a question and you offer him your hand.

“Y/N.”

“James. But everyone calls me Bucky,” he squeezes your palm briefly but gently and you hope he doesn’t notice how sweaty it is.

“Bucky, I’ll remember.”

“You’re American?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Yes, I am.”

“What brings to Ireland?”

“Oh, holiday. With my girlfriends,” you add and wave your hand in the direction of your table, knowing very well that Nat and Peggy are watching the two of you. Bucky looks there and smiles politely, waving his hand to greet them.

“That’s great. Great to have you here. Will you stay to listen some more? I’m going back on stage soon. Just for one more song, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod your head, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear as Bucky flashes you a toothy grin and excuses himself before making to go through the people. However, just as you are about to return to your table, he grabs your wrist and you halt, feeling little jolts of electricity where his skin met yours.

“Y/N, will I see you after?”

You look him in the eye, trying not to appear bashful.

“Yes. Yes, you will,” you confirm and he smiles once more, rushing to the stage as the crowd starts to cheer.

You, absolutely taken aback by him, stand as a marble figure until Nat and Peggy jumps to your sides, congratulating you on what seems to be very successful talk. You grin and let them lead you closer to the stage.

Bucky takes his guitar and sits in front of the microphone.

“This is an American song dedicated to Y/N. Hope you enjoy it.”

Nat nudges your side and you try to look everywhere but at Bucky, yet when he starts playing you’re drawn to him and you can’t stop it.

The melody is slow but nice and you find yourself captivated by it. Peggy is swaying to the rhythm of the song as well as few other people in the pub.

_‘Well I took a stroll on the old wild walk_

_Of the day -I-ay-I-ay-ay_

_I met a little girl and we stopped to talk_

_Of a fine soft day -I-ay’_

Bucky’s deep voice is the only thing you hear and you swear the time stands still now. Not because you enjoy the song, no. But because you know that song. You know it by heart.

_____

_You tried to squeeze yourself through the wall of bodies and not spill a drop of two beers you were holding. It was hard but not impossible._

_People were going crazy. The guy singing at the stage was amazing, yes, but you’d rather have a safe passage to a table than terrific performance. After yelling ‘sorry, coming through’ a hundred of times you finally made it through and into a stop with tables just before the stage._

_And, you froze in a place, unable to move. You met the guy, damn, you actually crossed paths with the guy who was singing. His name was Tony and you were sure that it was one time meeting._

_‘And I ask you friend, what’s a fella to do’_

_He noticed you, too, and he jumped from the stage, not even for a second mistaking the chord or stopping the song._

_‘Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue_

_And I knew right then I’d be takin’ a whirl_

_Down the Salthill Prom with a Galway girl’_

_He continued as he started to approach you, unmoved by your attempts to run away from him. The crowd went berserk, encouraging the two of you to carry on. You handed your beers to some random dude, much to his happiness, and – shit – you were trapped. Behind you was a wall of people, in front of you was Tony, wearing a shit-eating grin as he eyed you._

_“I like your jacket,” he said and you giggled._

_“I won it in a bet.”_

_He laughed and resumed the song:_

_‘We were halfway there when the rain came down_

_On a day -I-ay-I-ay-ay_

_And she asked me up to her flat downtown_

_On a fine soft day -I-ay’_

_You made to hide your face with your hands but that only made the people cheer louder and you stepped between the tables, Tony following your every move._

_‘And I ask you friend, what’s a fella to do_

_Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue-‘_

_“Okay, enough of that,” he declared and pushed the guitar onto his back, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in for a deep, messy kiss. Neither of you cared that there were people around you, clapping and screaming._

_It was just the two of you, finding each other again._

_______

You feel as if you’re suffocating. It’s too much, too familiar, too emotional. Bucky watches you as you leave the pub, almost running. His expression is one of worry and confusion but you don’t see it.

You dart out of the pub, taking deep breaths of cold night air. You lean against the wall and try not to cry in public but you fail.

Natasha and Peggy are fast to find you and they wait for you to calm down.

“Why does he do that to me? Why does he make me remember all those things? It’s making it harder, why is he so cruel?”

“I don’t think he meant to be cruel,” Peggy says softly, rubbing your arms.

“Then what does he mean?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Natasha wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you with her, “we’re going to bed. Come on.”

And yet again, you cry yourself to sleep but this time, Tony doesn’t come to soothe you. You’re all alone and you begin to realize that this is how it’s going to be now.    


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's smut part in this chapter. And Bucky's bare ass.

Next day is quiet and lazy. Natasha and Peggy don’t prod, don’t ask any questions. Instead, they make sure you eat, take a shower and wear clean clothes. They are worried, you can see that, but in your despair, you are far from wanting to talk.

So you don’t. For whole day you are silent. You use that time and that quietness to come to terms with living without Tony, with being in Ireland without him and with the fact that there are hundreds of little things that will remind you of him and you can do nothing about it.

You only need to accept it. And move on. Which is so damn hard!

_____

“We’re going fishing tomorrow,” Peggy announces during supper and you turn your gaze from your plate, where your food is barely even touched.

“Sounds good,” you mutter, giving her a tight smile and both of girls sigh with relief.

“Be ready at seven. I’ll make sandwiches,” she adds and you and Nat nod your heads, exchanging significant looks. Peggy was always the mom-friend, taking care of the group and making sure there wasn’t anything you would lack. It was sweet of her and you loved her for that very much.

“Do we have those super fancy life jackets?” Nat asks with all seriousness in the world, but her eyes twinkle with playfulness.

Peggy rolls her eyes.

“They give you those when you rent a boat, silly.”

“Okay, okay, sorry, mom,” Nat murmurs and Peggy suddenly looks ashamed as she lowers her gaze to her empty plate. You frown, but decide to leave it for now. You’ll have an opportunity to talk tomorrow. It’s not like you really go to catch a fish.

_____

With at least four layers of clothes on each of you, you are now drifting on a river, the oars set loosely. The sun is bright and its rays warm on your face and you smile, inhaling deeply. It’s so peaceful, being among the endless green, smelling the salty scent of the river and slightly pungent odor of nail polish.

“What the hell?” you turn your head to look at Natasha, who’s sitting on your left. Pegs took a seat opposite you and she’s staring at Nat with the same disbelieving expression.

 “Shut up, I need to fix my nails,” she says matter-of-factly and you shake your head, winking at Peggy. She resumes reading her book – a tourist guide of Ireland.

“Besides,” Nat continues as she gives her thumb a last touch and screws the bottle of bloody red nail polish shut, “you plan to find Bucky?”

“Nope. He probably thinks I’m an idiot. I left without a word.”

“Honey, you’re an American. They expect us to be idiots.”

“Nat, don’t push her,” Peggy calls calmly and you smile at her gratefully. You’re not ready to talk about swoon-worthy Irishman with a voice of an angel, who you hope to never meet again. You made a fool out of yourself and you don’t have a good explanation for him. You can’t say that the song he dedicated you was the same song you’re late husband sang in the very same pub 10 years ago. It would be truth but you don’t think he’ll understand.

“If she’s not, she’s not ready. However, if I remember correctly, Y/N, the longer you go without sex, the bitchier you get,” Peggy states, still focused on the guide and you gasp in mock offense.

“Bite me, Pegs.”

“Here we go,” she says and the three of you laugh for a while.

“I’m mad at Tony. He sent me here and now I feel worse than I did in New York.”

“Maybe that’s why he did it,” Nat says, blowing at her nails to make the polish dry quicker. You give her puzzled look and so she explains. “You need to stop wanting him at some point. He’s not gonna come back, sweetie.”

“I know,” you whisper and jump in your seat, startled when a rod on your right starts whirring. Nat lets out a gasp.

“Grab the pole,” Peggy orders, gesturing to the rod and you knit your brows.

“What?”

“You’ve got a fish, Y/N!” Nat shouts and you look at the rod as if it was a space ship technology not a long piece of wood.

“What do I do?!” you screech, instinctively reaching yours hands to the rod, and placing them on the pole.

“That’s right, grab it,” Nat encourages and so you spread your stance, planting your legs firmly on the bottom of the boat. It makes your bum stick out slightly but it’s enough to push Nat’s box with cosmetics out of the boat. She screams miserably, spilling curses and you turn your head around to look at her.

Meanwhile, Peggy tries to shift closer to you, saying you what to do but you can’t hear it through Nat’s shouts.

“Y/N, hurry it up. Turn the knobby thing, we have to pull it out of the river,” she finally stands up and comes to your side, grabbing the rob along with you.

“Stop being so bossy!” you roar, smacking her hands away and suddenly Nat is next to you, too, an oar in her hands.

“Oh, watch me! Mommy will save you, darling!” she calls and you glance at her, seeing that she’s trying to reach her box with the oar and pull it closer to the boat.

The boat starts to sway dangerously, but neither of you can stop now. You and Peggy are trying to get the fish, Nat is very determined to retrieve her precious nail polish and there are yells and swears (you never knew Peggy could swear so much) and it takes less than ten minutes for the three of you to rid the boat of the fishing rods as well as both oars.

It happened so fast you’re not entirely sure you didn’t imagine it. In a span of a second, Nat was laying on her back in one end of the boat due to sudden inflate of her living jacket and when she landed, she kicked Peggy, who pushed you and both of you landed in the other end of the boat. At least it stopped swaying.

You laughed at first, it seemed to goddamn funny then but when you realized that you have no way to swim back to the shore, your moods immediately fell.

You tried calling for help but since you were in the middle of nowhere, far from the shores, it was impossible for anyone to hear you. So, you sat on a bench, you on the right, Nat in the middle and Peggy on the left.

You put on every piece of clothes you’ve taken with you and spread a blanket on your legs, deciding that keeping yourselves warm was the most important thing.

Apart from not being hungry, but you had limited food, and Peggy ate almost all of it.

“I lost my last one. The last bottle of my favorite nail polish. You know what pisses me off the most?” Nat rants, her voice full of anger and surrender, “Cosmetic companies get you addicted to a certain color of lipstick or nail polish or whatever, and then out of sudden they discontinue it. I had to buy it like I was storing for apocalypse. And now it’s gone…”

“I’m sorry, Nat,” you take her hand and stroke it and she pats yours. She knows you didn’t mean to drown her cosmetics. It was an accident, just as losing the oars.

“I have an idea,” Peggy announces after finishing a jar of green olives, “one of us should swim ashore. And that one being Nat, cause she’s already inflated.”

“You know what?” Nat spits, reaching to pull a string on Peggy’s jacket, prompting it to inflate, “you go and swim.”

“Really, Nat?”

“You can swim now, babe, go on.”

“You happy now, aren’t you?”

You start giggling, listening to their bickering. It’s like they were in a kindergarten, fighting who’s toy is prettier.

“Guys, stop, you’re acting like babies,” you try to interrupt but when Nat looks at you she says nothing and pull a string on your jacket, blowing it.

“Oh, come on!” you call, giving up and grunting.

It’s getting dark and you are nowhere near to being rescued. What if you have to spent a night here? What if no one sees you and you’ll be doomed to drift forever?

“We’re gonna die here,” Nat pants and you gaze at her with dead-serious expression.

“Ever the optimist. We’ll eventually drift towards the shore.”

“Which one? It could take months!”

“Hope not more than nine, cause there’ll be four of us then,” Peggy states softly, a hint of joy in her voice and you jerk yours head to look at her. There’s a small smile playing on her lips, her cheeks tinted with pink.

“Are you..?” Natasha gasps and Peggy nods.

“I wanted to tell you when he get back but since we’re kinda stuck…”

“Oh my God, that’s wonderful!” Natasha exclaims, wrapping her arms around Peggy’s neck and hugging her close. And you, you suddenly don’t know how to breath.

It was _your_ dream to have a baby, it was supposed to be _you_ who gets pregnant first. You are happy for Peggy and Steve, of course you are, but you can’t stop a sting to cut into your heart.

“When are you due?” Nat asks after pulling from Peggy and the latter beams, her hands coming to her tummy involuntarily.

“March.”

“Wow, Pegs, that’s so great,” you say, trying to sound cheerful and forcing a smile to appear on your face.

“Yeah, you’ll still be on my wedding,” Nat declares and your heart falls to the bottom of the river. A wedding?

“What?” Peggy squeals and Nat’s lips curl into a wide grin.

“I’m getting married. Clint proposed and I said yes and we’re planning a New Year’s Eve wedding.”

Peggy screams joyfully, kissing Natasha’s cheek and you offer a quiet ‘congratulations’ biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from crying right here.

It shouldn’t be like that. Why are they moving on when you are mourning your Tony? How dare they be so happy when you are crying yourself to sleep? They know you’re hurting, how can they do that to you?

“You okay?” Peggy asks when you become too quiet for their liking and you force a smile.

“I’m fine. It’s just… a lot of information for one boat.”

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s your trip and I was going to tell you when we’re back on the City.”

“No, it’s okay, Peggy,” you assure her and Nat strokes your hair, giving you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, too. But we could die here, so I wanted you to know that I’m engaged and that I love Clint so fucking much!”

“And you’re getting married,” Peggy says gleefully and Nat giggles.

“Yeah, and you’re having a baby!”

The girls cheer loudly even more, while you sit silently, willing away the tears that start pricking at your eyes. It’s just not fair.

_____

An hour later, when you can barely a line of the shore, Nat spots a light in the distance, growing bigger and bigger. Peggy muses that someone probably noticed you and called for help and you are so very grateful! It’s so cold and you started to think that you’ll freeze to death like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.

“No way…” Nat breaths out as she narrows her eyes, watching the men on the rescue boat. And when you finally recognize one of them, your heart stops beating for a moment.

It’s Bucky. With a beanie on his head, but you would recognize his sharp jaw everywhere. You feel a blush creeping at your cheeks but you smile bashfully when the boat stops next to yours.

“Ladies,” Bucky greets and flashes you a grin, making a quick job in escorting the three of you to the shore.

You’re stunned and unable to speak, so Nat and Peggy invite him for a meal as a thank you for saving your asses. You can’t protest and, truth be told, you don’t want to. Bucky may think you’re a fool, but when he’s around you feel an excitement you felt only around Tony and you don’t want to give up on that.

Bucky drives you to your guesthouse and Nat and you cook a big portion of spaghetti. Peggy is talking to Bucky, babbling about how amazing it is that Nat is getting married and you give her a stern look when she grabs a bottle of wine and pour some for you, Bucky and Natasha.

You want to murder your friends with a rusted knife for prolonging the late dinner on purpose. The fact that there is a storm outside doesn’t change the fact that they do their best for Bucky to stay for as long as he can. Partially for them to be able to ogle him some more. You can’t blame them for that – you’re barely able to put the food in your mouth with your eyes constantly peaking at him.

“Bucky, did Peggy told you she’s pregnant,” Nat jests, while refilling your glass and your mouth falls agape. Since when you’re friends were so dumbstruck by a man?

“Oh, congratulations. And for you on getting married,” he says politely, glimpsing at you and taking a sip of his wine. He’s long done with his meal and with an extra portion Nat put on his plate.

You’re playing with your meal at this point and Peggy notices it, taking the plate away from you.

“Thank you,” Bucky smiles warmly at the girls as they clean up, “it was delicious. I think I didn’t come up for air once,” he jokes and the girls chuckle.

You sip your wine, trying to mask how his accents affects you. Of course it makes your knees weak. Of course you feel a knot in your lower abdomen and you are positive that Bucky knows how he makes you feel.

His piercing grey eyes are now at you, a wicked smirk tugging his lips upward and you can’t stop staring at his biceps rippling underneath a fabric of red Henley.

“Gosh, it got a lot darker while I was busy,” he states, tilting his head towards the window and you frown, trying to come up with a response. Behind Bucky’s back Nat and Peggy gesture you to say something, Nat’s gaze suggesting that you should invite him to stay over.

“Yeah, that kinda happens at night,” you say and mentally slap yourself. Brilliant, fucking brilliant.

Bucky laughs through his nose, quirking an eyebrow at you and you catch a glimpse of Peggy making a swimming move.

“So, uhm, you work on the lake?” you ask and Bucky nods.

“Two days a week. I’m a patrolman, sort of. Though, today was the first time I actually had to save anyone.”

You chuckle, feeling utterly stupid for being unable to hold a proper conversation. This man was too handsome for his own good and you lick your lips, watching Nat coming to pour you more wine.

“You know, I feel really bad that you’ll have to drive all the way back this late,” she says, sounding sad and Bucky shakes his head.

“I’ll be good. And please, that’s enough,” he rushes as she refills his glass.

“In this rain? Forget it.”

“Feel free to stay till morning. We have one spare room,” Peggy chimes in as she gathers remaining things from the table, leaving only your glasses and a bottle of wine.

“Oh, uhm,” Bucky blinks, looking between the three of you, “it’s a long drive.”

“So, you’re staying,” Nat declares and Bucky nods, unable to refuse her. Only Steve can say no to Natasha, to be frank.

“I’d love to take a shower,” Bucky finishes his drink and makes to stand up, Natasha immediately at his side.

“That’s a great idea! There’s one downstairs, I’ll get you some linens and towels. I’ll show you, come on,” she ushers him to follow her and before Bucky’s gone he gives you a sweet smile, making you smile as well.

Damn this man and his weakening look!

When Nat leads Bucky out of the kitchen, Peggy grins at you, clapping her hands.

“He’s staying the whole night, Y/N.”

“So what?” you shrug, your voice blank and indifferent.

“So, he’s gonna be here all night long. All night long, baby,” she emphasizes, looking at you with a suggestion is her eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” you made your way to the sink, deciding to busy yourself with something before going to bed.

“Love, I’m carrying a baby, you know how babies are made, right?” she rises her brows at you, chuckling when you give her a disgusted expression.

“Get the hell out of the kitchen,” you order, listening to her dying giggles as Peggy goes upstairs to her room. You assume Natasha is there, too, and the sound of running shower tells you that Bucky is still in the bathroom. You hope to be done with washing the dishes before he walks out.

You finish it soon enough and with water still running, you decide to check if Nat really gave him everything he needs. You peak into the room he’s going to occupy for the night and find out that bed is already made. There is no extra blanket, however, and so you go to the closet and take one out, heading back to the room. You place it on the bed and walk out on the small corridor, looking up the stairs. The house is quiet safe for Peggy’s and Nat’s chattering.

“You have to get pregnant immediately,” Peggy says and Nat chuckles.

“Yeah, we can have babies together.”

“How cute is that?” Peggy squeals and you sigh, feeling the sting in your heart wandering deeper. They’re happy but you’re feeling hurt by that and you can’t help it.

You go back to the kitchen, hoping to find a whiskey in a buffet. There is one (it’s Ireland, after all) and you open the bottle, taking a glass from a drawer and pouring yourself some.

You can hear the door to bathroom being open. Bucky clears his throat and you look over your shoulder, wondering if he needs something.

The glass in your hands almost lands on the floor as you freeze in place, your eyes opened wide.

Bucky is naked. Absolutely bare, expect for a towel he’s using to dry his hair. Your gaze slides over his muscled, defined back and you yelp when it travel onto his backside.         

A walking sin, it’s what he is.

As if it was the most natural thing, Bucky walks into the bedroom and discards the towel, throwing it on the bed. Then, he takes the Henley and turns around, noticing you staring with your mouth slightly agape.

He quickly lowers his hand to cover his modesty, rushing to hide behind the door.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were upstairs! Let me just get my clothes,” he mutters and you hear a noise when he’s dressing up.

You’re still frozen. You’re aware of what’s happening but the image of Bucky’s ass is still fresh in your mind and you feel a heat between your legs, making you shiver in anticipation.

You down your drink, pouring yourself another as Bucky comes out of his room, struggling with the Henley, which gives you an opportunity to stare at his well-built chest.

As his head finally comes to the view, he gives you a smile and sighs.

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you wave your hand and giggle, “fancy a drink?”

“Sure, but didn’t you, uhm…” he points his finger on the counter and only then you noticed that you must’ve overfilled your glass and the whiskey was all over the counter.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter as you grab a clothe and press it into the splotch, “it’s been a long while since I’ve seen a man that naked, that’s all,” you clean the counter while Bucky approaches, making you a nervous mess, “I mean, you have really nice… so you want that drink or not?”

He cackles, a deep sound that sends a jolt down your spine.

“You’re so sweet,” he says, trying to catch your eye and you stop, focusing your gaze on his face.

“Last time a guy told me that, he followed it with ‘but you look like you’re 13 and I don’t date 13-years-old.”

“Lucky for you, neither do I,” Bucky says, raising a glass he must’ve filled with the alcohol while you were cleaning.

“Cheers,” he offers and you tap your glass against his, adding ‘cheers’.

You swallow down the whiskey and before you can think twice, you throw the glass away and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck, bringing him down to your lips. You kiss him greedily, not giving him a chance to pull back. The scruff on his cheeks is tickling you and when it hits you that you’re kissing a man who’s not Tony, you jump away.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Bucky, I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N?” he sounds worried, reaching for you but you take a step back.

“I can’t do this. It’s not you, really, you’re so nice! Look at me, I’m a shaking mess,” you show him your trembling palm and he smiles gently, “I don’t know how to do this, really. I’m not even sure if I want to, cause I haven’t been held in a… no, nevermind me. I’m just screwed up, I’m trouble, yeah.”

“I like trouble,” Bucky rasps, coming closer to you and you whine, cupping your cheeks.

“No, Bucky, no. I don’t mean cute Pulp fiction kind of trouble, I mean like a mental case trouble thing,” you back away from him, but he follows you with a serious expression on his face.

“I haven’t had a new man in 10 years, you know,” he nods and you know you ramble but you can’t stop now. You’re a nervous wreck and you just kissed him and you need to explain, “he was old. I mean, no, he wasn’t like old old. He was just old to me, okay? He was my husband, but he died.”

“If you kissed him like that, I’m not surprised, poor lad,” Bucky teases and you chuckle, feeling relieved that he didn’t run away screaming.

He takes one more small step closer to you and gently pushes your hands from your face, cradling it with his big ones. You can feel they’re calloused but you don’t care. They feel nice and Bucky’s face is not so close to yours. You flutter your eyes closed and Bucky brushes his lips against yours. They’re soft and warm and he smells fresh and his hair is still damp from the shower as you run your fingers through his long locks.

You moan miserably as you pull back.

“Oh, Bucky, this isn’t gonna work. I feel like I’m trying new pair of shoes that I really want to buy but they just don’t fit. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, thumbing your cheek.

“How about going barefoot for a while, huh?” he leans in again, kissing you deeply and you give in. There’s no point in denying it – you want him, you want him badly.

You kiss him back, your arms circling around his neck and Bucky moves one arms to wrap around your back and the other under your knees to start carrying you bridal-style to his bedroom.

You don’t stop him. Why would you when he looks at you as if you are the most beautiful girl in the entire world. He pushes the door shut with his foot and sets you on the floor, pushing you firmly against his chest.

You let your hands slide over his muscular arms and Bucky hisses into your lips when you dig your nails into his shoulders. He licks your bottom lip and you part your lips to welcome his tongue inside your mouth.

You part only for a moment, as both of you get rid of the others top wear – you pull the Henley over his head and Bucky slides your sweater up your sides, tossing it aside. His eyes slide over your chest and you scold yourself for not wearing something better than the most ordinary black bra.

But Bucky doesn’t mind. He kiss a trail across your jaw, cradling your head as he peppers fervent kisses on your neck and collarbone, dropping to his knees to be able to shower your stomach with the caress of his hot lips.

He rests his hands on your hips, licking a line up your navel and you moan, feeling a wave of arousal course through your body.

“Stop me, if you want to, Y/N. Stop me if you don’t want me,” he says, his voice husky as he watches you with lustful eyes. You look down on him, tangling your hand in his hair.

“Don’t stop, Bucky,” you plea and Bucky grunts, feeling his member twitch in his jeans.

He covers your stomach with more kisses, as he unzips he fly of your jeans and pushes them down your legs. You step out of them and Bucky stand up, claiming your lips in a searing, passionate kiss.

With trembling hands, you search for a fly of his jeans and when you find it, you undo it quickly, rolling the trousers down Bucky’s thighs. He doesn’t have any underwear, so he’s standing in his naked glory in front of you.

He yelps, surprised, when you squeeze his buttocks firmly.

“What, you have a great ass,” you say, biting on his lower lip and he chuckles, unclasping your bra. He tosses it onto the floor and runs a finger up and down your spine.

“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” he chuckles and you grin, rubbing your nose against his and he finally cups your breast, kneading the flesh gently.

You mewl, grasping on his shoulder, your legs buckling because of growing need to feel his inside.

Bucky catches you in his arms and lays you on the bed, giving you a moment to find the most comfortable position. You try not to stare at his impressive hard-on but you can’t stop your eyes from wandering. You gulp, gnawing on your lip.

“It’ll fit, don’t worry,” he coos as he kneels between your legs, sprawling a hand on your lower stomach. His eyes are questioning and you nod, giving him permission to strip you from the last garment covering your body.

You lift your hips as he slides your panties down your legs and you see him inhale sharply when his eyes land on your pussy.

He pumps himself few times, before hovering over you and yanking one of your legs around his waist.

“You ready for me, Y/N?” he asks and you lift your hands to cradle his cheeks and feel the pleasant scratch of his stubble.

You whisper ‘yes’ and in next moment you feel his cock prodding at your entrance, slowly easing in. He’s thick and you gasp as he fills you inch by inch, eventually being sheathed in you to the brim.

Bucky sooths you with sweet kisses and praises and you roll your hips against his to let him you need him to move.

His pace is slow at first, experimental so to say. He lets you adjust to the feeling of him pulling in and out of you. You roll your head back, getting lost in the pleasure and you wrap your other leg around Bucky’s waist, letting him slide deeper inside you.

He growls as he looks between your bodies to see his cock disappearing within you, an animalistic sound that makes you shiver beneath him. He angles his hips, quickening his pace and you cry out when he hits that perfect spot.

“Oh, Bucky, right there, right _there_ …” you stutter between high-pitched moans, and Bucky moans your name when your walls contract around him, making him throb deep inside you.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good, _so fucking good_ ,” he growls and you whimper, unable to hold back any longer. The dame breaks and you come undone, screaming out his name as you arch your back and dig your nails into his back, scratching and gripping.

Bucky’s hips falter as he feels you clench around his dick, his own peak coming as well and when your body relaxes he allows himself to come, resting his head on your collarbone as he grunts from the depths of his throat. He jerks inside you few more times before he empties himself inside you, prolonging your climax.

You trace imaginary patterns on his back as the two of you catch your breaths and Bucky pulls out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

He lays next to you, quickly gathering you into his arms and you rest your head on his chest, listening to his still a bit quickened heartbeat.

The rain is still pouring and Bucky glances at you, seeing your guilty expression. He spreads a bed sheet over your bodies, kissing our forehead.

“No one’s going to fault you for living, Y/N. No dead or alive.”

“You’re very sweet, Bucky,” you smile and nuzzle against his side, running your fingers over his chest.

“Your man, he was a good man, I reckon.”

“Yes, he was. A very good man,” you confirm and look up at him.

“Could you drive me to Enniskerry in the morning?”

“Sure. You got friend there?”

“No, family. Sort of. In-laws. I feel I should visit them.”

“Alright,” he flashes you a gentle smile and you tilt your head to kiss his lips.

“What’s their name, by the way? Maybe I know them.”

“The Starks,” you reply and lay your head back on his chest.

“Howard and Maria?”

“Yeah, you know them?” you prop yourself on an elbow, watching Bucky’s face as a wide smile appears on it.

“You’re Tony’s Y/N, right?”

“What?” you shriek, suddenly feeling too aware of your nakedness. You pull the bedsheet around your body as Bucky sits up.

“You’re that girl from the pub that night. I was in Tony’s band.”

“Not Jimmy…” you start and Bucky nods, “Jimmy Barnes?”

“The same,” he affirms and you climb out of the bed, wrapping the sheet tightly around your body. You feel panic surge through you.

“Y/N, it’s alright, it’s alright,” he rushes, his voice soothing and honey-like, “Tony and I, we used to share everything.”

“Ewww,” you gasp in disgust and Bucky shakes his head.

“No, no, no, not like that. I meant that he wouldn’t mind… okay, maybe he would,” he says as he sees your doubtful grimace, “but there’s not much he can do about it now, right? Y/N, please. Come back to bed.”

You give in, seeing his puppy-eyed begging expression and climb back to bed, cuddling to Bucky again.

“I heard he died, you know,” Bucky starts, his voice quiet. He reaches for your hand and strokes your knuckles, “tumor, right? Tony and I… we haven’t seen each other in a very long while. It’s sad when it happens to best friends, innit?” you hear hints of sadness and pain in voice and you plant a kiss to the inside of his hand, “he was a wonderful lad, such a great friend. And it’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N, because these things, they happen. Every now again they do.”

“Yeah, I know,” you pant and Bucky kisses your forehead, combing your hair.

“Want me to tell you some stories about me and Tony? I’ve got plenty.”

“Oh, can you? He didn’t talk much about his life here.”

“Of course I can, sweetheart. So, for starters you ought to know that he was my very best mate. We started being terrors since we were 5 or 6 maybe. Damn, he could make me laugh, he could make anyone laugh, to be frank.”

You chuckle, nodding to confirm Bucky’s words. You often thought that Tony would make a great comedian, with his constant jokes and never-being-serious manner.

“There was this one time, I don’t remember how old we were, probably around 10. We jumped on a train…”


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, you wake up pillowed on Bucky’s chest. He stirs and awakes shortly after you, greeting you with a lazy smile and sleepy eyes. He looks downright adorable and you will away an urge to feel him inside you again.

The two of you don’t talk much, opting to get ready and hit the road as soon as possible. Stark’s farm is quite a ride away from your guesthouse and you want to go there before Natasha and Peggy get up. You’re sure they would want to know what happened last night and you’re not ready to talk about it yet. Not even with your best friends.

Bucky tells about working at you parents-in-law’s farm while you eat breakfast. He and his father often help Howard, especially now, with Tony’s dad’s health problems. You know he had a surgery on his leg, that’s why Tony’s parents couldn’t make it to their son’s funeral.

After cleaning up, Bucky and you get into his truck and he starts a slow, careful ride to the farm. The car is quiet, except the sound of an engine but you don’t mind. You need to gather your thoughts and mentally prepare yourself for meeting with your in-laws. You haven’t seen them in ages and you’re afraid that they won’t welcome you well.

 They might blame you, and it wouldn’t be a surprise. You took their only son away, after all. You made him follow you across the ocean and stay there with you, not with them. They were never angry with you, Tony often assured you that they’re happy to gain a daughter, even if they couldn’t see the two of you very often.

It doesn’t calm your nerves, however and you fidget in your seat, feeling your heart pounding hard in your chest, making you feel nauseous.

“Y/N?” Bucky draws your attention and you glance at him, chewing on your bottom lips, “no need to stress out so much. They’re good people.”

“I know that, it’s just… I don’t know that to expect. What if they don’t want to see me?”

“Oh, they do. Maria said a few times that she wished you would visit her more often.”

“Really?” your brows jump up and Bucky nods, smiling warmly.

“Yeah, she was happy Tony found such a lovely girl.”

You let out a small ‘oh’ and fall silent, not knowing how to respond. Bucky flashes you another smile and focuses on the road, maneuvering the car over particularly rough part of the road.

Half an hour later, you start to recognize the surroundings, and you pat his knee.

“Stop here, I’ll walk there,” you ask, seeing the farm’s buildings and Bucky pulls over on the ride of the road.

“About last night,” he starts, shifting to face you and when his bright eyes bore into yours, you feel a rush of heat in your body. You don’t know if that’s shame or desire and, honestly, you don’t have time to think about it. “Please, don’t think badly about yourself for what we did. You can’t blame yourself for living, nobody can.”

“You’re a good man, Bucky. And thank you for not running away from a crazy lady,” you say half-jokingly and Bucky chuckles, a melodic sound that makes you laugh, too.

“No, you’re not crazy. Maybe a little. But it’s not a bad crazy.”

“Good to hear that,” you unfasten your seatbelt and make to open the door but Bucky grabs your wrist gently, prompting you to look at him again.

“I’m not counting on seeing you again and I won’t ask you to, if that’s not what you want, but you know where to find me, right?”

“I do, Jimmy,” you toss him a wink and climb out of the car. Without think twice, you lean in and press your lips briefly to his, saying a quick ‘thank you’ before you swing the door shut and start walking towards Stark’s farm.

Bucky watches you for a while, making sure that you’ll get there safely. Now, as you’re gone and won’t see it, he can finally growl in frustration, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. He didn’t plan for this to happen. Damn, in his wildest dreams he couldn’t imagine a night with his old best buddy’s girl. But when he saw you in the pub that night, when you came to him with that shy smile on your face and those beautiful shining eyes, he couldn’t help it – the attraction he felt was too strong to deny.

But now, as he found out that you were Tony’s wife, he couldn’t stop feeling guilty. He almost lost his head yesterday when he added two to two, but you were on a verge of panic and he jumped right into action, disregarding his own screwed up feelings.

Bucky will get over it, he knows that. But he knows, and he’s sure about it just like he’s sure that the sky is blue, that he won’t stop thinking about you. He only wishes that the time was different. That you’d met on a different evening and things would work out for the two of you.

Fuck, how much he’d like that.

____

You smooth your black dress as you approach the front door of a small house Tony’s parents live in. Taking few deep breaths to calm your nerves, you think of a way to greet them. Nothing more than a simple ‘Good morning’ comes to your mind, so you knock on the door and wait for someone to open.

When it does and Tony’s mother looks at you with curious eyes, you force your lips to form into a smile and stutter out an unsure greeting.

“Come in, Y/N, we’ve been waiting for you,” she says cheerfully and steps aside to let you in.

“You knew I’d come?” you ask, surprised, and follow Maria when she leads you to the living room. You can hear a piano playing and smile softly when you see Tony’s dad sitting by it.

“Tony wrote us you would,” Howard says, glancing at you over his shoulder, “he also mentioned that you’d send a package.”

“I thought you might want to have some of his stuff back,” you explain, taking a seat by the table after Maria ushers you to do it. She offers you a tea and you gladly accept.

“Thank you for thinking about us, darling,” he stands up and approaches you slowly. You jump on your feet, reaching to help him but, much to your shock, he pulls you into a hug. “It’s so nice to see you, Y/N.”

“It’s good to be here, too,” you murmur and when he breaks away, you help him sit in his chair and as Maria comes back with teas on a tray, your eyes fall on a folded letter.

“We’ll get right to it, dear,” she assures you and hands you a mug, smiling at you fondly. All your fears fade away – they’re your family, why would you ever be anxious about visiting them?

You chat for some time, Maria and Howard asking about your life in New York and you expressed your fear about never finding a job. They assure you that you will, eventually.

“He always liked to write,” Howard muses when he spots that, once more, your gaze shifts to the letter, “should’ve gone professional.”

“No, he did for the love of it,” Maria adds and takes the letter, her eyes sliding over Tony’s handwriting, “where is it..? Oh, here, I found it,” she clears her throat and gives you a small smile when you focus your attention on her.

“When Y/N visits, take her to my fort in the back yard and give her this envelope. Howard,” she looks at her husband and he frowns for a moment, before taking an envelope out of his pocket and passing it to you. It has ‘To my Galway Girl’ written on it and your heart clutches when you see it.

“A fort?” you ask after a moment and Maria chuckles.

“It’s not really a fort. It’s just a stone wall he used to call that when he was little. He would spend whole day playing there…” her voice breaks a little and Howard reaches for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “He wrote about other things, too. Lovely things. I wish we were there when he was sick.”

“I could barely walk after the operation,” Howard says, sadness and pain hinted in his tone and you feel your eyes water.

“Tony knew that, please don’t blame yourselves,” you nod, the words slightly shaky as you feel a lump in your throat. You can see that Maria is on a verge of crying, too, but she recovers quickly.

“Maybe you can visit us more, now that he’s gone? I know you’re under no obligation, we’re not blood family…”

“I’d love to,” you say and swallow hardly, “and I am sorry that Tony and I didn’t come much in the past. We, uhm, I was sure you’re mad at me.”

“I wasn’t pleased when he announced he’s moving out,” Howard says, ignoring Maria’s scolding gaze, “but she wanted you dead for a moment there.”

“Howard!”

“No, I don’t blame you. My mom was far from being happy, too.”

“Well, it happened too fast. And you were both so young. But Tony loved you, I saw that. And what kind of mother would I be if I stood on my son’s way to happiness?” her voice cracks and Howard wraps an arm around her when the tears start coming. You feel a bit embarrassed and so you ask for direction to the place Tony wanted you to go and leave his parents to have a moment for themselves.

With the letter in your hand you step through a beautiful garden in the backyard, following an alley that’s supposed to lead you to Tony’s childhood fort. You notice it soon enough and, impatient to find out what it’s going to be this time, you open his letter.

“My Galway Girl,

You’re an angel for seeing my parents. Now you believe me when I said my mum didn’t hate you? Anyway, you are now standing in the very place I did all my thinking. It’s nice, isn’t it? I stood there after the very first time we met, remember it?”

_____

_“Crap,” you said to yourself, looking at the map for a hundredth time. It didn’t make any sense. It said you were supposed to be where you wanted, but it didn’t look like that._

_You gazed over the hills and behind yourself, on the road. No car was driving by, but far on the horizon, you noticed a man coming your way._

_“Sorry, but I think I’m lost,” you called as he neared you and brushed the hair that wind pushed on your face._

_______

“I thought you weren’t real at first. You had so many colors on yourself, more than I’ve ever seen on a girl, but you looked like belong out there. With all that green and purple and yellow. You said you were lost, I remember it well, but to me – you didn’t look lost.”

____

_“So, what are you looking for?” he asked as he stopped across the street from you._

_“_ _Wicklow Mountains National Park.”_

_He let out a short laugh._

_“National Park, you say. And how long have been walking for?”_

_“A few hours,” you cracked a smile and the man shook his head, a playful smirk curling up his lips._

_“Well, then I’m happy to inform that you’ve been in the Park for a few hours.”_

_“Oh my God, this is a park?” you exclaimed disbelieving as you took a moment to look around yourself._

_“Uh-huh,” he confirmed, watching you as you rubbed your forearms._

_“It’s so cold! I thought it would be warm this time of a year.”_

_“Sweetheart, you know you’re in Ireland, right? It is warm.”_

_You chuckled and waved your hand in front of you._

_“I better head back, then. Since I’ve already seen the park and stuff.”_

_“And where’s that ‘back’?”_

_“Uhm, B &B in Dunlougahairy.”_

_“Oh, you mean Dun Laoghaire.”_

_“You’re not kidding, are you?”_

_“No, why would I lie to you?” he cackled as you wrinkled your nose, your eyes twinkling with glee._

_“Is it how you say that?”_

_“Yes, it is.”_

_“Okay, thanks,” you said and started walking to your left._

_“Oh, you’re grand. But it’s actually this way,” he pointed his finger to the right and you turned on the heels of your boots, smiling awkwardly._

_“You’re enjoying being lost, are you?”_

_“I don’t mind it much, not here. It’s such a pretty place.”_

_“True that. How did you ended up here?”_

_“Oh, I’m on a college trip. We started in Greece.”_

_“Damn, it’s a long walk. And that’s a bad joke,” he deadpanned, making you giggle, “what are you studying?”_

_“Art.”_

_“Art? You’re an artist?”_

_“Well, not yet. I mean, I don’t know yet.”_

_“Great! Do you make anything or…?”_

_You bit your lip, shifting on your feet._

_“I don’t know yet.”_

_He chuckled, throwing his head back and you rocked on your feet before you started walking again, in the right direction this time. He stayed on his side of the road and after few more steps he cleared his throat._

_“Would you mind if I kept you company? Since we’re walking in the same direction. We don’t even need to talk or anything,” he rushed as you gave him a teasing look, “it’s just nice to walk with someone, without talking and all that crap.”_

_“Sure,” you shrugged and just like that, the two of you resumed your stroll, glancing at each other from time to time._

_______

_“_ At first, the no-talking didn’t last. Once you opened your mouth, I couldn’t get you to shut up. And you were so sweet, trying to impress me with poetry, William Blake and all your big plans. You didn’t even notice when I was by your side! I had no idea what you were talking about but I knew then that I loved the way you spoke.”

_____

_“’I will not…’ - something – no wait, not like that! ‘I must create a…’- something – ‘or be enslaved by another man’s..’- something,” you grunted, trying to remember the correct words, “I got it! ‘I will not reason or compare. My business is to create…’ something. Ugh!”_

_“Did you make it up just now?” the man chuckled as you spun around, pulling at your hat._

_“No, it’s William Blake but I completely screwed it up.”_

_“Naaah, you didn’t. I understood it, so it’s better.”_

_______

“I lied, I didn’t have a clue, baby.”

____

_“All I know is that you need to figure out the ‘something’ or else you’ll stay ordinary. And it doesn’t matter if it’s a work of art, a pizza or a pair of socks. Just create something new and give yourself to the world. To read it, touch it or hear it. A little bit of yourself to know. Does that make any sense?” you stopped and faced the guy and he gazed at you for a moment before nodding._

_“I think it does. You’re saying you want to paint socks.”_

_You beamed, chuckling._

_“Maybe!”_

_______

“I loved you right then and there. Just like that. You rocked my world, baby, you and your smile. I gave you my jacket, remember? You looked so cold!”

____

“ _I really like this jacket,” you stated, pulling it closer at your sides to prevent the wind from stealing away all your warmth._

_“It looks good on you. I won it in a bet.”_

_“What was the bet?”_

_He rubbed the back of his neck._

_“My buddy and I were at the pub, and I was already sort of in a good mood. He bet me that I couldn’t get a certain girl to kiss me without a provocation.”_

_“What girl?” you asked, gazing at him curiously._

_“His girl.”_

_“No!”_

_“Yes, he actually said that.”_

_“How did you do it?”_

_“Well, there’s nothing to it. A fella just has to tell a woman truth without words. Like a signal you send out. And the woman just needs to pick it up.”_

_“And what’s the truth?” you inquired, feeling captivated by him and his story. Truth be told, he would tell you about how he painted a wall and you would listen to it closely. He was almost intoxicating and you found yourself on a good way to fall for him._

_“That kissing her would be the end of life as I know it.”_

_“Wow. And you said it to every girl you kissed?”_

_He chuckled, shoving his hands into pockets of his jeans._

_“When I was younger, I could just turn it on and off. I had no principles, every girl I kissed was the end of life as I knew it.”_

_It made you laugh, the sincerity in his voice._

_“And now?”_

_“Now, I send it off only when I think that the girl might be the one to make it true.”_

_A silence fell between the two of you when your eyes locked with his, silently asking you to come closer, to take that small step and make that line true for him. You knew you couldn’t do it, that you could not just go and kiss a stranger, even if you were dying to do so._

_And so, you outstretched your hand and shook his when he took it._

_“Thank you so much! I know where  I am now, I can find my way. It was nice to meet you.”_

_“Wait, I can walk you to the town.”_

_“No, I’ll be okay. I know where I’m going,” you nodded and turned around to walk from him but after taking few steps you faced him once more._

_“I’ll never forget this. Oh, and your jacket,” you mumbled, lowering your gaze to unzip it. Much to your surprise, he was in front of you in a two steps, circling his arms around you protectively._

_“Shh, don’t move.”_

_“What?”_

_“A wild Irish dog is running our way,” he whispered and you yelped, only now hearing barking. It was, indeed, coming closer._

_“Just stand still, alright?”_

_“Okay, yeah,” you whined, grimacing when you saw the average size dog at your feet. You looked up at the man, noticing a smirk playing at his lips._

_“We need to get close, like one person,” he explained seriously and pushed you further against his chest, “if we separate it may attack our vital parts.”_

_“All my parts are vital,” you exclaimed and jumped when the dog growled._

_“Don’t be scared, we have to stay still.”_

_You nodded lightly, closing your eyes as you tried to calm down. You weren’t afraid of dogs but God knew how dogs would behave in Ireland._

_You opened your eyes to observe the animal and when you tilted your head to look at it, you spotted a collar. Wild dog your ass. Quickly realizing that the guy was fooling around, you decided to do just the same._

_“I’m really scared,” you whimpered, “can I put my arms around your neck? Do you think it won’t freak him out?”_

_“O-okay,” the man said, frowning slightly but didn’t say a word when you wrapped your arms around his neck. The two of you were inches away from each other, it wouldn’t take much for your lips to meet._

_Without hesitation, you leaned in and pecked his lips, prompting him to jump from surprise. He looked at you with wide opened eyes._

_“Sorry, I’m not very good at it. I’m seeing this boy, he’s name is Sam, but we don’t do much. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s me,” you shrugged and he laughed shortly._

_“Well, maybe he has no idea about kissing. It’s a men’s business.”_

_“Is it?” you mumbled when he put a finger under your chin, tilting your head gently and slowly leaned in until his lips touched yours, moving tenderly. It sent a shiver down your spine and you let yourself get lost in the moment, in a sweet taste of his mouth._

_You broke away seconds later and you grinned widely, cupping his cheek._

_“That was the most perfect perfect first kiss.”_

_“Actually, that was the second. And that’s the third,” he rasped and kissed you again, deeply and passionately, your hands resting on the back of his neck to pull him closer._

_It lasted until you heard a man calling the dog. You pulled away from the man, looking from him, a bit ashamed._

_“Hi, Tony,” the man said as he walked past you, the dog following his owner._

_“Hey there, Jeff,” Tony said back and frowned when you took a step away from him._

_“No, no, stay.”_

_“But you have my jacket.”_

_“I know and I’m keeping it unless we meet again.”_

_“Oh, I bet we do.”_

_“Well, you better win it, because if we meet again, that will be the end of it.”_

_“The end of what?”_

_“Life as we know it.”_

_He chuckled, running a hand over his face._

_“Look, I’m singing at this pub-“_

_“No, don’t tell me! If I happen to walk into a right pub, in a right town, then we’ll know,” you started to walk backwards, keeping your eyes on the handsome stranger you just kissed, “and if I don’t, then it will be the most perfect kiss ever created by two strangers and it will remain just that for the rest of our lives.”_

_“Can I at least know your name?”_

_“No, you gotta leave it to fate,” you said, smiled at him softly and turned around, running up the road, leaving the man behind._

______

_“_ And you were right, baby. Life had changed as I knew it. And now it’s changed again, Y/N. See, I’m not worried about you remembering me, it’s that girl on the road you keep forgetting. Find that girl in you, bring her back. She’s in there somewhere, I know it. ‘My business is to create!’ You told me that, remember?

So, find it. That thing that makes you like nobody else. I’ll help, I promise. Just look for a sign.

P.S. I love you.”

You press the letter to your chest, not stopping the tears when they start to wet your cheeks. You know Tony’s right. You’ve changed, forgetting about your passion, about your desire to create – that’s why you studied art, after all. But reality was different and you had to focus on so many things – money, job, rent, grocery shopping. It pushed that girl Tony fell in love with deep inside you when more practical you had to come out.

As you close your eyes to let yourself settle down, you decide – you will bring her back. For Tony.

And for yourself.

______

Natasha and Peggy don’t ask any questions as you come back to the house later that day, noticing that you’re going through something you need to do on your own. They make dinner and then clean up before the three of you start packing up to be ready for a trip back the next morning.  


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as you step into your apartment – so quiet and oddly unfamiliar – a wave of confusion runs through your head. The letter is in your bag, though you’ve already memorized it. Tony wrote about giving you a sign, and you hoped that when you enter your flat, you’ll see it.

But, of course, it’s not there. Why would it? It’s not like Tony is able to place anything on your way – he’s dead. And life it’s not a romantic movie when a man comes to a woman he loved and stays by her side as a ghost.

All you can count on is yourself and your brain. Your creativity and imagination. Not Tony’s, no longer Tony’s.

Your gaze slides over your bedroom and rests on the urn, still standing on a drawer by the foot of the bed. You haven’t moved it and you don’t plan to, not anytime soon. At least, you stopped carrying it everywhere you’d go.

Dragging a suitcase behind yourself, you slowly make your way through the living room and into your bedroom, throwing your bag on the bed. The trip back was more exhausting than you anticipated and you felt mentally drained from listening to your friend’s joyful ramblings about the pregnancy and the wedding. You still haven’t wrapped your mind around those facts.

You sit on a bed and kick your boots off your feet, sending one of them straight onto one of the legs of your chest of drawers. It shakes and a picture of you and Tony falls flat, pushing a clasp you’ve put next to it onto the floor.

With a growl you rise to your feet and bend over to collect both items. You grab the boot and then with your fingers you grasp the clasp. Only when you bring them from under the chest of drawers, you see it and it makes you gasp.

“My business is to create,” you murmur to yourself as your eyes grow wider and wider. You move the silver clasp to the front of the shoe, deciding that it _fits_. It looks classy and fashionable, a nice combination for, let’s say, a cocktail party or maybe a date in a fancy restaurant.

You place the shoe and the clasp on top of the urn and rummage through that drawers, looking for a clean notebook. When you find one and some color pencils, you take out all of your fashion magazines, flicking through the pages in a search for various textures and materials.

In your haze, in that surge of inspiration, you don’t hear your phone or a knock on your door. You break away from designing yet another pair of shoes when the room it’s too dark for you to see properly and only then you put the notebook aside and reach to turn on your bedside lamp. A growl of your stomach lets you know that you need to eat something and so you go to the kitchen, deciding to order a take-out. You didn’t go for grocery shopping, you doubt that you have anything to eat.

You pick your favorite pizza place and make an order, and while waiting for it, you go through notifications on your cell. A text from Steve. Then, from Peggy. And Nat. All of which have the same contents – ‘I’m worried, please, call me’. Ten missed calls from your mom and one from Wanda. She also left you a voice message and you bring the cell to your ear to listen to it.

“Hey, sis. I know you’re back and I’m not gonna tell you that I’m worried, ‘cause I know that you’ll get through whatever happened in Ireland. Just remember that I’m here, whenever you need me. Love you!”

Sweet Wanda, always supporting you, even when you don’t want to see anyone. Only she understands that sometimes solitude is needed, despite the world telling you that you should let your family and friends in to help you.

Your phone beeps, telling you that a text message came and you look at the screen seeing Nat’s name. You open the message and cringe slightly.

 _“Y/N, get back to me_ _ASAP! I need to ask you something.”_

The demanding tone of the text makes you grimace but you turn off your phone, going to your bedroom. You will take care of it tomorrow. Or maybe the day after it. Or later.

You sit on a drawer, next to the urn and rest your arm on it, stroking it slowly. The floor is scattered with all of your shoes, there are papers laying everywhere, some of the pencils slid and landed on the floor. Your room is a mess but somehow it feels right. It’s _your_ mess.  

“You stayed there, didn’t you? You didn’t come back with me, Tony, you stayed home?” you mumble, smiling sadly, “I’m creating something, you see. You helped. I saw a sign. But, please, don’t leave just yet. I still need you around.”

A silence answers you, but why would you be given other answer than quietness?

_____

Almost three weeks passes when you’re finally ready to face the world again.

You have covered two notebook’s with your designs and signed up for a course of shoe-making. It was more complicated than you imagined and you had no idea that a shoe has so many different parts. But by the end of it, you have made your very first and very own pair of high heels.

Your friends tried to reach to you, but you didn’t care. You were focused on accomplishing your little goal and so you haven’t called Natasha back after she left you a voice message, in which she yelled at you for not answering any of her texts. She wanted you to be her maid and because you haven’t replied he had to ask Clint’s older sister. She sounded furious.

Peggy and Steve came by but your door was locked and you were too busy with looking for a nice fabric for your shoes to give a damn about the knocking. They tried to talk to you, you heard their voices, but you only frowned.

You couldn’t bring yourself to let anyone in.

However, you called Peggy eventually. You asked where you can find Natasha and so, now, wearing a dress and your hand-made heels, with a notebook in your grasp, you step into a wedding dresses salon, where Nat is supposed to be trying on her wedding dress after first improvements. You’re nervous and a bit scared. You let her down, you know that and she’s probably mad as hell at you.

You round the corner and enter a small room with a platform in the middle of it and tall mirrors around it and there Natasha stands, smoothing the skirts of her long dress with a tight corset.

“You look stunning,” you say softly as you approach and she jerks her head up, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Thanks, missing princess. What made you step out of your lair?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what? Ignoring us when we called countless times? You could send a stupid text, Y/N! Now, I have to stand Clint’s sister moods and whims and Peggy can’t help much since she’s basically rolling around because of her baby bum. Do you even care about any of it?” she snaps and you flinch, hearing how angry and hurt she is. And she has every right to be. You’ve been an awful friend lately, to all of them.

“Look, I don’t know why are you like this. I thought you would be happy with us finally having something good in our lives. Is that why? You’re jealous? Pissed because you’re not the center of our attention anymore?”

“Yes!” you nod and wipe at your cheek when, surprisingly, you feel a tear, “you’re moving on and I’m stuck. I don’t have anything good.”

“Oh, sweetie!” she whines and rushes to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders to pull you into a hug. “You stupid idiot, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Nevermind, it’s not important anymore. Nat, I made you something. I mean, I haven’t made it yet, but have a look, alright?”

“Sure,” she says and leads you to a small sofa and when you sit down, you open your notebook and search for a certain page. Natasha is quiet, waiting for you. “I designed you wedding shoes. I don’t know if you’ll like them-“

“Wedding shoes? For me?” she pants, evidently surprised and when you finally find the page with heels for Nat, you present it with a wide grin.

“You will have very unique wedding shoes. No bride will ever have ones like yours.”

With wide opened eyes and parted lips Nat stares at your project, her finger brushes gently over a fragment of lace you pinned to the page.

“You’ll make them? Like, really make them using your hands?”

“Yeah, I will. Look, I’ve already made mine,” you straighten your leg, wiggling your toe to show your shoe and Nat squeals, clapping her hands.

“They’re so beautiful! Please, please, make mine!”

“Alright, I will!”

“And, oh, I have a question,” she turns serious and you look at her curiously and a bit anxiously. “Will you be my bridesmaid? Along with Pegs cause I had to ask Clint’s 40-something-years-old sister to be maid of honor. I mean, you have no vote about dresses now, but will you?”

“Of course, Nat!” you exclaim and bring her into a hug, whispering more compliments and apologies.

You stay with her until she’s pleased with her dress, all the while listening to her complaints about too big boobs and how corset makes it hard to breathe. She invites you for a lunch but you have to refuse. You already have different plans.

_____

“Wow, can you draw a shoe for me, too?”  Scott asks after you showed him your notebook. The two of you sit in a restaurant, waiting for a waiter to take your orders.

“For now, I’m sticking to lady’s heels, Scott. But when I finish another class, and then maybe when someone buys my shoes, I will make ones for you. Nat is already crazy happy that she’s gonna be the first ever to wear shoes made by me. She’s called Peggy to find someone to show my designs to.”

“What’s gotten into you, by the way? With designing, I mean.”

“Oh, I was in Ireland and I got another letter. Tony reminded me who I wanted to be all those years ago. He’s guiding me, I feel that.”

“God, you look so great, smiling like that!”

You lower your gaze, your smile involuntarily growing bigger.

“Thank you.”

Scott leans a little, sending you a wink.

“Of course, I look great too, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, tugging a strand of hair behind you ear, “you know what’s funny? When it all started to happen, you were the first person I wanted to tell about it.”

“Shit, that’s hilarious. Maybe there’s a chance to stretch this lunch into a dinner?” he asks, sounding serious, but you take it as a joke. It’s hard to tell with Scott, when he means something or not.

“And that’s the moment to change the subject,” you declare with a smile, prompting Scott to shake his head, a cackle escaping his lips.

“How have you been?”

“I’m good,” he says, “thing’s been great and I think I may have an idea for a business. Still needs polishing but I can’t focus on it ‘cause I think about you all the time. And I’m giving you too much information, right?”

“Well, that happens to me lately,” you flash him a warm smile.

“But you said you thought about me.”

“Because you’re being a real friend through all that’s happened.”

“So, you haven’t thought about me naked?”

“No, I have not,” you giggle, seeing his goofy expression.

“Not even once?”

“Nope.”

“Without a shirt on, maybe?” he quirks an eyebrow and you giggle again, unable to contain your mirth. He’s so funny and easy to be around.

“Stop it, Tony, please!” you whine before you can think twice and Scott falls silent.

Feeling a cold shiver rush down your spine, you gaze at him, his face resembling stone – you can’t see any kind of emotion.

“Scott. My name is Scott.”

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, shame warming up your whole face.

“You think you’ll ever feel about anyone the way you felt about Tony or maybe a letter will help you figure it out?” he says coldly and makes to stand up. You reach for his wrists.

“Scott, please…”

“Look, Y/N, I really like you. But I’m tired of being your shoulder. I want you to finally see me. I don’t want to be invisible. I want you to want me, okay? I want to date a woman who actually likes me. I’d like to be someone’s Tony, you know. And really, it’s not your fault, it’s mine. I let myself feel something for you, I didn’t plan it to happen. So I’m sorry about that.”

He pulls his arm out of your grasp and walks out of the place before you can even open your mouth. You’ve realized Scott may have feelings for you some time ago, but he made you feel better, so you selfishly kept him around, not caring about how much it might hurt him.

And now, he’s hurt. Because of you being unable to at least state your intentions clearly.

You look around the restaurant, blinking to push back tears gathering in your eyes. It hits you with all its power – the realization that you were being awful and cruel and it pushes the air out of your lungs. You were relying on the letters and no matter how helpful and sweet they were, they made you act like a bitch sometimes.

You cover your mouth trying to mute a sob. There’s no point in staying here and making your heartbreak public – you run out of the restaurant, heading to your mum’s pub. She will help you, she’s your mommy.

She’s sitting by the table when you storm in, looking through the papers but she stand up when she spots you.

“Y/N?”

“Mom!” you jump into her arms, hiding your face in her neck as you give in to your despair. She lets you cry for as long as you need, not asking any questions.

Only when you stop and clean your nose, she offers you a walk to a park she used to take you and Wanda to when you were little. You happily agree and  stroll with her in silence until you find a bench in a secluded area of the park.

“You know what I thought about those letter, baby. They were no good for you.”

“I know, mom, but they helped. They really did.”

She nods, placing a hand on your knee to give you a sign to let her speak.

“It’s hard to watch as your child goes through the same thing you did. When your father left I had no time to pity myself. I couldn’t lay in bed and cry for days to no end, because you and Wanda needed me. That’s what kept me going. My two beautiful girls,” she gently strokes your cheek and you smile fondly, “and when you came from Ireland with a man and said you’re married, I was angry. I didn’t want to see a man hurting you, but Tony and you, you had something good. You loved each other and that was clear. I was only afraid that when something happens, you’ll be in so much pain!”

“Tony and I had a talk. When he got sick and had very little time left, he asked me to take care of you and be there for you, because you will need me even if you say nothing. He was right. I tried my best, even if I didn’t like that plan of his,” she stops for a moment and opens her purse, taking out a folded envelope. When she straightens in, you notice your name and suddenly, it becomes clear.

“It was you?” you pant, shocked and confused. Your mother was never really fond of Tony, despite his hardest efforts to please her.

She nods, passing the letter to you.

“I couldn’t say no, not when he explained why he was doing that. You needed a guidance, which only Tony could provide.”

“Thank you, mommy,” you take the letter and look at it, feeling a bit impatient.

“It’s the last one, darling,” your mom ads, “you’re gonna need to start living on your own now. It’s not easy, but you’ll be fine. I know that.”

“Do you think Daddy will ever contact us?”

“No, baby. He will not. He made it clear when he left without a damn note,” she says bitterly and you squeeze her hand tenderly, wanting to reassure her. You barely remember your father – you were too young to understand what was happening and your mother hardly ever talked about it.

“He was like your Tony. At the beginning, at least. I was crazy about him. Oh, how he could make me laugh! Till I cried and my stomach hurt.”

“I never heard you laugh,” you say, frowning and your mother gives you a sad smile.

“I didn’t have many reasons to laugh after his leaving. But that’s okay.” She stands up and leans in to place a kiss on your forehead. “Read the letter. You’ll know what to do.”

You watch her go and when she’s far away, almost out of your sight, you rip the envelope open, eagerly pulling the papers out. The letter is long and you devour it with your eyes, smiling all the while.

Your mom is right – you know what to do.              


	10. Chapter 10

It took you four days to arrange everything.

First, the place – Yankees’ stadium, you deemed, was the best one since you and your companion both loved them.

Second, the partner. Scott didn’t answer your calls for two days after the lunch fiasco, but after you’ve texted him and apologized from the bottom of your heart. He wasn’t really eager to meet you, at first, but as you were more and more persuasive, he finally gave in and agreed.

Third, the letter. Last letter from Tony is put in your coat’s pocket and as you wait for Scott to arrive, you stroke it with your fingers, feeling as if Tony was encouraging you to do it. To do the right thing.

And you believe that what you are about to do is, indeed, the right thing.

A shadow moves on the tunnel’s ground and you turn your gaze in its direction, your eyes meeting Scott’s confused ones.

“Didn’t know you can book your own game.”

“Not a game, just the place.”

“Look, Y/N, I don’t know what the hell is it all about, but I don’t like it,” he admits sincerely, raising his hands a bit in a defensive gesture.

“Oh, you’re out of your pills?” you jest, and fish the letter out of your pocket. Scott looks at it and gives you a frown, his brows knitted into one above his questioning gaze.

“It’s okay, I want you to read it for me.”

“You sure?”

You nod in reply, tilting your head after you handed him the envelope, the two of you step onto sward and you head onto the platform. When you get there, you wave your hand at Scott, encouraging him to start reading.

He opens the envelope and takes the pages out, unfolding the letter as he clears his throat. He’s unsure about the idea, it’s clear to see but you want to carry on before you can change your mind.

“My dear Y/N,” he begins, his eyes go briefly at you and you nod, pacing the space of the platform, “I don’t have much time. Not literally, you just went out for ice-cream and you’ll be home soon. I have a feeling this is going to be last letter, baby, because there is only one thing left to tell you. I won’t ask you to go down memory lane again, or to buy a lamp. Those things, you can take care of them yourself, without my help. This one is to tell you how much you changed me. You made me a man, by loving me, Y/N. And for that, I am eternally grateful.. literally. If you can promise me anything, baby, promise me that whenever you’re sad, or angry, or unsure or find yourself losing faith – try seeing yourself through my eyes. Thank you for the honor of being my wife. I regret nothing, not even a second. How lucky I am! You made my life, Y/N, you made it better. But I’m just a chapter in yours. And there will be others, I promise.”

Scott takes a shaky breath, visibly touched by Tony’s words and you blink few times, holding back tears. You’re standing still now, waiting for him to finish.

“So here comes the big one. Don’t be afraid to fall in love again. Don’t run away from it. Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends. P.S. I will always love you.”

“Alright, Scott, come over here,” you beckon him, your voice a bit unsure but you know it’s right. Tony gave you a blessing, didn’t he? And maybe Scott is the one you should start a new chapter with, even if you didn’t think about him that way before.

He climbs on the platform, standing in front of you, a small grimace on his face.

“Now what?”

“Now you kiss me. That’s it, yeah. Kiss me.”  

“Okay, alright, I’m on it,” he shrugs and leans in, his face coming closer and closer to yours until there is no space between the two of and your lips are pressed together.

You close your eyes, moving your mouth slowly against his, pulling yourself closer to him. Scott moves his hand to cradle your head but in the last moment, he changes his mind and step away.

“Good gracious, it’s like kissing my sister!”

“Oh, thank God, I thought I was the only one feeling like that,” you pant, wiping at your lips and he gazes at you, half-amused, half-repulsed.

“You know, I dreamt about his moment for a while but it was bad. Not that you’re a bad kisser, it’s just…”

“Not right, I know.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding his head.

“So, weird friendship?”

“Yeah, weird friendship sounds perfect. Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“No, why?”

You smile softly, taking his hand in yours.

“Will you go to Natasha’s wedding with me?”

He beams, clutching a hand to his chest.

“Like a date?” he chuckles when you nod eagerly. “Sure, just don’t vomit on me.”

“Can’t promise that.”

_____

**_December 31 st_ **

You collapse on your chair, panting heavily after yet another crazy dance with Scott. He’s with Wanda now, swirling her around like a madman, but your sister seems to enjoy it.

A giggle rings from your left and you shift to look at Peggy. She looks absolutely stunning in a green dress Nat chose for her bridesmaids, her baby belly round and adorable.

“Can I stroke your tummy, please?” you plea and she nods, smiling widely when you rest your hand on her stomach.

“You’re be that aunt that will spoil our kid rotten,” she jokes, although affectionately, “and Steve joked you should pat his crotch, too, since he help make this baby.”

“Oh, you want me to touch his crotch, cause I don’t!”

“Naaah, he better be happy with only me patting his crotch.”

The two of you burst into laughter, drawing Steve’s surprised gaze but he only shrugs and continues walking toward Nat and Clint to have a dance with the bride.

Your lips curl into a gleeful smile when you stare at the just-married couple. Clint’s eyes are so full of love and adoration and Nat just can’t stop looking at him as if Clint’s world greatest treasure. They’re going to be so very happy and you couldn’t be happier for them.

“So, you’ve opened your own boutique,” Peggy points and you nod, reaching for a glass of water.

“After taking a loan and countless hours spent on planning the whole thing, yes I have opened my own shoe shop. I’m a designer now, Pegs, remember it.”

“I’m so proud you, Y/N,” she says fondly, stroking your hair and you flash her a warm smile, feeling your heart swell. You can never thank them enough for being your friends and supporting you during last year and you only hope you’re being a good friend to them, too.

All of you have new chapters ahead, but you’re not afraid anymore. Not angry at God that he’s taken away your husband, not sad that you wake up alone. You finally understood what your mother meant when she asked you to stop waiting. You just need to take your life in your hands and squeeze out what you want from it.

And you can’t wait see what more you’re able to wring out.

_____

**_A month later_ **

Making yourself comfortable, you prop your back against the pillows, placing your notebook on your bended legs. Pressing a pen to the blank page, you begin writing.

“Dear Tony,

You said you wanted me to fall in love again and maybe I will. But not now. There are all kinds of love out there and I need to focus on them, before I take care of mine. This is my one and only life and I want to make the best of it. It’s ugly and hard and short and sometimes terrible, and none of us comes out of it alive. I don’t have a plan – you said once that my plans never work out anyway – expect for one. I want to make my mom laugh again. She’s never seen the world. She’s never been to Ireland. So, yes, I am taking her when we started.

I don’t know how you did it, honey, but you brought me back from the dead. I’ll write to you again soon, pinky promise.

P.S…. guess what?”

You let out a breath as you fold the page and slide it into an envelope. You sign it with Tony’s name and get up, pull out a drawer from Tony’s nightstand and put the letter in there.

With a bright smile on your face, you go the living room and sit before your laptop. It’s time to book the tickets.

_____

**_Spring_ **

“I’ve never seen so much green in one place,” your mother marvels as you stroll down the country road leading to the Stark’s farm. She seems to be stunned by the landscapes, amazed but content. A smile never once disappeared from her face since you’ve landed in Ireland.

It’s nice to see her smile so much.

“You called them, right?”

“Yes, I did. They said they can’t wait to finally meet you.”

The two of you come closer to the farm, watching as men walk around, from a barn to a big truck parked at the side of the road, stacks of hay in their grasps.

Your mom gives you a nervous glance as you lead her towards the house, walking past workers.

“Y/N?” a surprised voice calls and you look over your shoulder, seeing Bucky exiting the barn with a stack in his hold.

“Bucky!” you cheer, halting as he approaches you.

“Visiting your in-laws again?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d bring my mom to see Ireland, too.”

“That’s grand. Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he bows his head a little, greeting your mom and she looks at you curiously. You’ll have a questioning later, that’s for sure.

Another man approaches you and your mom smiles politely at him when he drops the stack he’s carrying.

“Dad, you okay?” Bucky asks and makes to help his father, but the latter waves a hand at him.

“Not every day I see such a lovely gal, son,” the man says and smiles cheekily at your mom, who, much to your amazement, bursts into a fit of giggles. It’s a sweet, melodic sound and you blink, awe-struck by it.

“See you around, then, Y/N,” Bucky says as he pats his father’s back, hinting that they should get back to work.

“Sure,” you nod and before he goes too far away an idea strikes you. You rummage through your bag and fish out a small notebook, opening it and scribbling your cell number and your e-mail address with a pencil you found in your bag.

“Wait!” you call after him and Bucky turns around after he throws the hay on the truck. “Here. Call me or write me, whatever suits you best.”

You slide the note into a chest pocket of his flannel and he flashes you a warm smile, thanking you. You then come back to your mother, resuming the short walk to Maria’s and Howard’s front door.

When you stand before it, your mom looks at you, evidently excited and you ask,

“ready?”

“Yes, I am. You, darling?”

You take a breath as you raise your hand to press the doorbell, your heart pounding in your chest – not from fear or nervousness, but from excitement.

“I’m ready.”

And damn sure you are.  


	11. Epilogue

 

**_2 years later_ **

You climb up the stairs leading to a small porch. Rummaging through your bag as you look for the keys, you push the binder under your arm.

“Gotcha!” you cheer to yourself when you finally fish out the keys, holding them by a red keychain in a shape of a shoe. A funny gift from your boyfriend as the two of you moved in to the new house.

You unlock the door and swing it open, sliding to the house and kicking off your high heels immediately. You love designing them, but wearing them for almost entire day – not so much. Yet, as the owner of a shoe boutique you should do a good publicity and so, with an ever-present smile on your face you wear heels every day. The binder lands on the drawer next to the front door, just as your bag.

“Wanda and Scott are dating!” you call loudly as you make your way to the living room, collapsing on the sofa and resting your head on the back of it. Soft thumps on the carpet tell you that your boyfriend is about to join you.

“Finally! I thought he would never ask her out.”

“Me too,” you murmur when Bucky walks into the room, wearing nothing but dark jeans. His hair, as per usual, is gathered on the back of his neck in a messy bun. He greets you with wide, fond grin and sits on the coffee table (thank heavens you didn’t buy glass one), reaching for your legs.

After he placed them on his, he begins rubbing your foot gently, kneading the flesh and working all the ache away.

You let out a soft noise of contentment and your eyes flutter closed.

At first, after Bucky sent you an e-mail, you didn’t think that the two of you would have something more than a distant friendship, given that you were an ocean apart. Yes, you were visiting Howard and Maria more often now but you asked Bucky to not push you into a meeting at the beginning. The pair of you started with a bang, quite literally, and you simply needed time to build a strongly- based relation rather than continue with ‘screw and part ways’ kind of relationship.

You enjoyed your chats immensely. Bucky always found a time to reply to your messages or later, when you started exchanging text, to send you one, making you smile to yourself with how sweet they sounded. And as you called each other for the first time, you were pretty sure you started to fall for him.

Bucky treated you like a sweetheart he was – not forcing you to anything, not mocking your designing sprees or the fact that you always carried colorful pencils with yourself.

You were unspeakably anxious when he came to America for the first time. He stayed in a hotel close to your flat, which was his ideas. He didn’t want you to feel pressured to spend a night with him. You knew then, that James was the man you would be happy to be with.

So, after you bashfully asked him to, Bucky moved to New York City, into your apartment at first, and after half a year, you moved in with him to a small house Peggy helped you find.

And you couldn’t be happier with how you and Bucky eventually ended up. He was patient with your artistic soul and the chaos you created when you were designing. Without a word of complain, he would collect your magazines and notebooks and take them to your office if you left them somewhere else in the house.

He was grateful that you were waking up with him, even if you didn’t have to, and while he was taking shower, you would make a breakfast for the two of you and a lunch for him to eat at work. He found a job as a mechanic and you often teased him to no end when he came back home, with a smear of oil on his clothes and a smell of gasoline and diesel.

Your friends joked that you had a type – a handsome Irishman with a guitar, but they grew to be find of Bucky very quickly.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart,” Bucky teases and you open your eyes to gaze at him sleepily.

“I’m exhausted. I didn’t even imagine what I’m signing up for when I opened the boutique. So many ladies want to own unique pair of shoes, it’s unbelievable.”

“About that,” he starts, scratching his scruffy cheek, “my boss wants to give his wife something nice for birthday and he knows I’m with you, so, uhm… you can say no, of course.”

“And got you fired? No, thank you. I’ll do it, I will even give him a discount but he has to let you finish early on Friday.”

Bucky’s brows knit slightly as he fixes his eyes on your face, trying to recall if you mentioned anything about your plans for Friday.

“There’s this dinner for artists and they invited me and I want you to come with me. If you’re okay with it, that is.”

“And let the opportunity to show up with my beautiful girl slip away? Please, of course I’m coming!”

“Thank you,” you smile widely and lean in to kiss his lips slowly, moaning softly when he starts to kiss you back.

A long, sweet moment later the two of you part, Bucky getting back to massaging your other foot and you close your eyes again, letting your thoughts wander.

“I’ll wear that pretty blue dress you bought me,” you muse, smiling when you hear him chuckle. “I have heels that will match perfectly, but I think all my jewelry is too dark. Something bright will go nicely with that dress, you know? I’ll have a break tomorrow, I’m gonna go and find something…”

“Maybe this will do?” Bucky’s voice breaks through your rambling and only now you realize he’s no longer touching your legs. Or sitting on the table, for that matter.

You open your eyes and gasp when you see him kneeling next to you with a small velvet box in his hands. He opens it and your gaze falls to the golden ring with a diamond.

“James..?” you return your attention to his face and Bucky flashes you a nervous lopsided smile.

“Y/N, sweetheart. I know you’re probably shocked ‘cause I never showed I was going to do it, but you’re the love of my life. I followed you to America and I will follow you wherever you want to go. You complete me, doll. I love you and I know you’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?”

You can only nod because of the tears that stream down your cheeks. The emotion makes you speechless; you swallow trying to push the lump down your throat but that doesn’t work, so you settle for nodding and weak ‘yes’ when Bucky slides the ring on your finger.

He cradles your face with his warm hands and wipes the wetness from your cheeks, brushing your lips with tender kisses before he finally presses his mouth to yours in a passionate, loving kiss.

A new chapter begins for you, and you are so ready for your future with Bucky.


End file.
